In Your Arms Poem by Ibn Ali

If that good Angel comes to me before life brings me harm,
When Death becomes me and stills my heart,
I pray it be in your arms,
I don't need a drink to quench my thirst,
Or sips from watered drips,
If you are close my love then satiate me with your kiss,
When limbs are limp and lids are weak and sight begins to leave,
Turn my face to yours my love so you're the last I'll see,
Don't Rain your monsoon tears on me,
Still your cloudy eyes,
This is where our sorrows meet,
I swipe my palm across your cheek,
The wells refuse to dry,
When tongues are tied with labored breaths,
Speaking becomes a chore,
It's easier to read your eyes than hear your mumbled words,
If not said,
It's no less true,
Though much is spoken,
Words are few,
I lived my life and died,
In between it,
I loved you.