A great impire once thrived, and a great leader reached the door steps of the old continent to set camp for a new era.
The majestic mosques and the beauty of the architecture of the ancient city with two sides of space, two sides of time and two sides past, present and possibly future.
All the deeds of a 21 year old young man, a rare breed and a genetic pride of his ancestors that ruled the highlands on horsebacks and fur garments.
I carry his name, but not even fit to carry his shoe, let alone the sword that he fought with.
Praying in the most ancient worship place in all of the city, I was feeling the spirits of all of those who prayed here before me, regardless of their faith…
It was only right that the young ruler should die at 49, because such a legacy had to end to be renowned so quickly… to be prophesied a century earlier, and celebrated half a century later.