‘I am neither in temple nor in mosque,’ they are dangerous places,
then, Kabir, why does this mosque look like the serendipitous places?
They tell me ‘this courtyard can hold up to 25,000 believers,’
will there be room for one infidel in these stupendous places?
‘Aman ♥ Rekha’ cut into the farthest edge of the minaret,
see how love happens only at the most precipitous places.
They give sarongs to cover our legs, robes to cover our hands,
He knows the body He lent us, why act so precious, places?
Six thousand workers, for a king, over six years, built it,
Take Akhil, for wazoo, their sweat, still in these pious places.
(Thanks to Ravikant and Neil)