I Don't Count The Years—past Or Yet To Come Poem by Mohammad Younus

I don't count years—past or yet to come.
I stay in the pause between two breaths,
The present's whisper in the stillness.

Here, time is no fleeting bird,
No wing brushing past unseen.
It's a quiet friend at my side,
Murmuring truths in steady tones.

Each breath—a heartbeat, a child's gift,
Unwrapping grace in time's stillness.
In this purity, illusions waver,
Like mist before the morning light.
The maze of fleeting time dissolves,
Its walls no longer confine.

Time flows—a silent stream,
Where my heart rests in awareness,
Hearing the miraculous music within.

Your voice, calm and steady,
Lifts me beyond the temple's chant,
Beyond the restless pulse of life,
Into silence, eternal harmony.

Here I wait till dawn unfolds.
The sun, in tender glow,
Parts the mist of night's drowsiness,
Freeing me from shadowed dreams,
Plunging me into spring's embrace.

Touching light's eternal truth,
I find my spirit whole.
In the music of time's embrace,
Treasures bloom as wisdom's gold.

MyKoul