Turn your face to the truth—
not as one swayed by the winds of doubt,
but as a river returning to its source,
as a seed yielding to the pull of light.
You were shaped in the hands of the Eternal,
molded with the breath of a knowing love.
The pattern of your soul is not random,
nor is the longing in your chest misplaced.
It is the pulse of the One who fashioned you,
the rhythm of a promise whispered before time.
Do not trade your essence for illusions.
No sculptor alters the masterpiece of the Divine,
no hand rewrites what was inscribed in light.
Yet many stray, unaware,
building their homes on shifting sands,
forgetting the foundation set within.
But you—
you are called to remembrance.
Return to the path engraved in your being,
to the way that was always yours.
MyKoul
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem