When the time comes,
he will have scoured his brain clean
of his final, desultory thought,
and he will have annihilated
the hovel of his ego
for what he prays is the palace
of the greater good.
The minutes that day,
because he knows
they will be his last,
will be scintillate as sapphires,
rubies, emeralds and diamonds,
dazzling with a radiance
he can hardly stand.
He will tattoo
with the atoms of his heart.
His breaths will be pure,
warm, and deep, wrenched
from the lungs of Allah.
In a blinding light
nuclear as noon sun,
in a single act ending his life
and those of the innocent
strangers around him,
as their eyes are shredded
and plastered to the surfaces
of what was seen, he will shudder
the trenchant heart of God.
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