Aisha

In Basra's dawn, where power newly bloomed, Aisha arose, by past grievance fumed. Against Ali, his authority's ascent, Her banners flew, on different purpose bent. The desert wind carried the clash of steel, As kin met kin, the rawest wounds to feel. Ali watched the fray, a leader's burdened sight, As loyalty fractured in that bitter fight. A primal tear in unity's soft weave, Where sorrow's dust the hopeful heart would grieve. Aisha, with spirit fiercely set and bold, Her vision clashed with stories to be told. But fate's harsh hand brought down her valiant stand, A fragile figure in that shifting sand, Now haunted whispers of what used to be, A yearning heart for lost serenity. Ali, with the weight of leadership he bore, Saw discord quelled, and conflict's bitter core. That early strife, a shadow's first embrace, Upon the promise of that sacred space, Leaving Aisha humbled, her proud venture done, And longing for past treasures, 'neath the relentless sun. ***** Now, you can take up reins and build the further story. *****