Poetic mind knows no bounds,
No confining walls of time and space,
Now plunges in to the abyss of past,
Then climbs the stairs leading,
To heightening zones, zenith of future,
Wherefrom he sees, catches visions,
Of encroaching events, pleasant or painful,
Riding on the slimy, slippery back of time.

A winged dream wafted me and placed,
Softly thousands of years far behind,
Beside the circle of shrewd shepherds,
Where the joking folk gathered around
The reverend, esteemed, glorified figure.

Abased He in the middle of the ring,
Wrapping his head with a faded kerchief,
A woolen bag hung down his shoulder,
Amid the sarcastic smiles with patience,
Suppressing the wrinkles of his worry,
Delivered He to the deviated crowed,
The sermon, preached He the commands,
And recited He to them the verses of God.

One of the audience did me whisper,
Pointing to the figure, making a gesture,
“He is David (A.A), the prophet of God,
Teaches His nation the sacred commands,
And in return the majority pass,
Jokingly the sarcastic remarks.”