Beneath The Vault Of Endless Blue Poem by Mohammad Younus

Beneath the vault of endless blue,
sunbeams stitch the hills in gold—
a silent psalm, a molten hymn
that melts the stones to liquid praise.
The earth exhales its breath of light;
the shadows kneel, then slip away.

I gather fragments of the night:
dreams that flowered, jasmine-bright,
petals trembling, half-unfurled,
and specters wreathed in ashen flight,
whose ember-eyes drank dawn's first tide.
All that lingers, all undone—
a fugue of dust, a drift toward sun.

My thirsting gaze drinks down the sky,
this wildfire river, this hymn of dawn.
Each breath a thread, each thread a cry
to bind me to the Unseen One.
I beg the light to sear its mark
deep in the marrow of my bones,
so when the wind undoes my form,
my song still hums beneath these stones.

But air grows thin. The clouds conspire—
bruised silk unravels, smothers fire—
to choke the sun's last fragile thread.
Yet even as the dark ascends,
I taste the blaze on my tongue,
in every root, a buried spark
that thrums the creed of no return:
*All is lost, yet nothing burns—*
we are the ash where light still yearns.

Then—the hush. The sky's slow waltz—
mercy spilling, bright and vast.
No shadow fixed, no ember cold;
each splintered shard is gathered whole.
Dawn whispers my name, a wave unchained—
and in its wake, I realise, rediscover:
a single truth, the sky's refrain,
the light I gained, was already there
My essence, but wrapped by my own clouds.

—MyKoul