Nightingale Perches In The Soul Poem by Mohammad Younus

The nightingale perches in the soul—
Singing a song sweet and unheard—
And never ceases—at all—
Its melody stirs softly in the calm.

Deaf must be the heart—
That cannot hear the song—
Of the bird whose gentle craft
Keeps the clay warm with longing.

I've heard it through winter's chill,
And in the scorch of day—
Yet never—at the edge of dusk—
Did it ask leave—of me.

May its song rise with every breath,
A golden thread in life's weave—
Let it hum through every season,
Steadying the clay that grieves.

Beneath the sounding clay, it sings—
A quiet music, soft and clear.
Though the vessel may crack,
The song endures—undimmed.

I will love with an open heart,
And greet its song with grace—
Arms outstretched like Adam's first breath,
Faith unshaken in its being—
The divine song.

MyKoul