Looking Ahead To The Horizon Poem by Mohammad Younus

Looking ahead to the horizon,
I stand before an endless unfolding—
a world draped in green and gold,
the earth's own artistry woven in light.
Rolling hills whisper in ochre strokes,
forests breathe in hues of emerald and bronze,
and above, the sky unfurls its vast blue canopy,
where silent clouds drift to an unseen rhythm.

I am drawn into this sacred tapestry,
its colors not merely seen but felt—
a language older than time itself,
speaking in rustling leaves and dancing light.
And then, there is the music—
the echoing hymn of wind through branches,
the soft murmur of a distant stream,
the delicate laughter of birds at dawn.
Each note a thread in the fabric of creation,
each melody a whisper from the unseen.

And in this harmony, I am cradled,
gently rocked by the breath of the divine.
Here, in the hush between heartbeats,
I touch the quiet pulse of all things,
the rhythm that shapes river and mountain,
the silence that births song.

Wonder fills me—
the glory, the mystery, the ecstasy of knowing:
I am not apart from this,
but woven within it, a single thread in the whole.

Then, in the hush, a voice—tender as dawn—
whispers through wind and water:

'My child, it is I.
And you, too, are of me.'

For does not the river carry the essence of the sea?
Does not the flame remember the sun?
So too, the child bears the truth of the Father,
and in the vastness of creation, I recognize myself—
not separate, not lost—
but home

MyKoul