I Ask A Question To My Self Poem by Mohammad Younus

I ask a question to my Self—
Could I become better,
One who savors the divine echoes,
Melodies that stir the soul with grace?

My Self, amused, smiles back.
"Do you truly know this better Self? "
My answer falters, caught in thought.
The silence hangs, weighty, waiting.

My Self, both stern and cunning,
Whispers, "You must choose."
Yet choice feels distant, slippery—
I am ensnared in the grasp of doubt.

I surrender the question to time,
To the rhythm of unseen truth.
"You must change, " the Self persists—
I step outside, hands open,
To honor the call of fitrah's song.

In the garden, I begin to weed;
My Self kneels, shoulder to shoulder.
Together, we unearth tangled roots—
A quiet labor, an inner tending.

Soon, the soil breathes clean;
The garden gleams with renewed light—
A glimpse of Eden's untouched grace,
Clear, free, and deeply whole.

MyKoul