Dear Self Imperfect Poem by Mohammad Younus

Dear self, imperfect,
You are not your own.
Swollen with pride,
you chase false suns,
mistaking their glow for wholeness.
Yet shadows unravel you,
doubt hums beneath your breath—
why not rest in the divine?
You were not made for this.

O self, imperfect,
Do not blind your eyes,
Do not hush your ears,
whispering: I do not see, I do not hear.
In silence, you forsake
the voice within—
that tender pulse of truth
urging you to rise
and greet the knowing heart.

O self, imperfect,
The devil has drawn his line,
leaving you wandering,
headless in the storm.
To sever root from sacred root
is a brittle lie we bear—
illusions scattering us
farther from home.

O self, imperfect,
small and weightless,
deaf, blind, heavy-hearted—
adrift from what is real.
You bow beneath shame,
dimming the breath
that once sculpted your form.

O self, imperfect,
Can you not glimpse the divine
in your own reflection?
Would peace not bloom
if your eyes sought truth—
beholding beauty beneath the veil?
You are, you are, you are Al-Haq.
Take hold of this light,
let it sculpt you whole.

— MyKoul