Not The First Day, Once Again Poem by Mohammad Younus

Not the first day, once again,
Autumn descends with its sacred reign—
Cold rains fall, gusty winds sweep,
Soaking the earth with heaven's elixir.

Autumn, the culmination of time,
Ripens what the bloom and fruit began.
It dances now with golden chinar leaves,
A farewell waltz
before the white and cold blossoms of snow—
It sways with wisdom as it departs,
Leaving behind the eternal seeds
That, in the mystic spring, will rise again.

I see a spring of radiant skies,
When stubborn clouds of the mind cease.
Birds return to sing the soul's song,
Calling us to dream beyond this veil—
To plant seeds of truth in fertile hearts,
And transcend the fading illusions of this world.

Like autumn, the mystic or the sage,
In their ripened age are rich with pearls—
They have gathered seeds of light,
Fragrant blossoms, and eternal fruit,
Nurtured by the divine grace through their sacred quest—
where they sowed the light seeds
in their hearts' land
And reaped divine awakening and enlightenment.


MyKoul