Before Dawn's First Blush, A Light Already Hummed Poem by Mohammad Younus

Before dawn's first blush, a light already hummed—
not born of sun or star, but something older,
a murmur riding the breath of winds,
a hymn spun from the silence between constellations.

No shadow bends its arc, no shroud dims its face.
It moves in the sigh of every living thing,
a rhythm beneath soil and sky,
the heartbeat stitching centuries to moments.

I chased it in rivers that mirrored my hunger,
dug palms into deserts that slipped like ghosts.
But it was there—where the storm stilled,
carved into the quiet of my own marrow.

When night pressed its ink into my bones,
a voice split the dark, thrumming through ribs:
*You were mine before the womb's first whisper,
mine when the last star unravels to dust.
Do not fear—come home. Rest.*

O lantern, O compass, O name etched in flame,
no chaos can drown you, no tide wash your claim.
Al-Haq—the seed, the road, the returning,
my allegiance roots here, where all and nothing burn.

MyKoul