Isn't It Intriguing? Poem by Mohammad Younus

Isn't it intriguing,
these lines I write—
they feel as though they aren't my own.

They emerge, unbidden, like whispers,
borne on the wings of intuition,
each word a secret unfolding
from realms unseen, unknown.

Who whispers these words of wisdom?
Not coarse, not dull,
but pearls that shimmer in their light,
like dew catching the morning sun.

God speaks from His sacred throne:
'Your intuitions are Mine.
I inscribe them with My honored pen
on the parchment of your heart,
a sacred tablet where truth resides.'

These verses are not mere echoes;
they are holy breaths of eternity,
spoken through the silence of the soul,
etched in the language of the divine—
wordless, soundless.

Each syllable, a ripple in the void,
each line, a thread in the tapestry,
woven with truth and mystery,
celestial whispers, written by human hands.

When I write, I am but a reed flute,
held to the unseen flutist's lips,
singing sweet melodies of His beauty—
songs of the Infinite.

In this dance of pen and spirit, I surrender,
not to my own whims and fancies,
but to the Source of wisdom
from which all beautiful manifestation flows.

MyKoul