He shared his sweets, and was willing to serve, a friend of the most High, he died after he had prayed, a humble man, careful in his choice of words, proud of the achievements of his daughters, I called him a friend. A believer in the Most High, devout in his faith, a builder of bridges, between the Faiths, understood they were on the same Journey, the instruction manual was different, that’s all. He called me friend, and wore a smile on his face too, thanks. He brought many blessings with him, and I received more than my share, and as he did, I passed them on, they were a gift after all. Reared in the Islamic faith, we both got to know each other, and we shared the occasional walk, got to chat, recognized what we had in common, a fear of extremism and the hatred it breeds. See you again, old friend.
Solomon sighed, the class size wall small, but once in the room, there were no differences at all. Reaching out, it wasn’t tough, just requires a practice. Across the world, Solomon sighed, there were those trying to reform, and were under assault from the extreme thinkers, they needed help and encouraging words and actions. So Solomon wrote it, well, it was what Nashat would have done. We all learn from good example.