The Prism Of Divine Light Poem by Mohammad Younus

Through mazes of the restless mind,
through hearts half-lost, through eyes gone blind,
I craved a sky of molten gold—
where stars like living lanterns climb.

I broke my chains with open hands,
scrubbed time's dull stain from soul and sand,
carved wings from silence, fears undone,
and grasped the night's last fading strand.

To drink the dawn, to eat its glow,
to stitch the light where shadows grope—
I traced a road of liquid grace,
where every wound might learn to close.

Then—glass! Alive, awake, aflame,
its edges sang, its colors named.
Each facet bent time's blinding thread
to hymns no tongue had ever claimed.

Violet sealed what rage had split,
amber poured where ache was knit.
Crimson woke from ash and slate—
a breath remade, a pyre lit.

That Day, the prism blazed,
and buried embers roared to rays.
The oath inside my blood turned loud—
drowned the night's last whimpering praise.

Yet shadows coiled like knotted snakes,
spitting thorns across my wake.
The prism turned their poison faint—
each lie dissolved in mercy's lake.

'Not stars, but the Sun's first cry, '
it sighed into the splitting sky.
'The path won't climb—it kneels, it yields,
where all roads drown inside the Eye.'

Through sleepless streets, through iron skies,
its pulse became my spine, my sight.
Until my shout cut through the dark—
'Fitrah! Storm and lake are You—alike! '

The dream? A leaf on tides untied.
The veil? A breath on glass denied.
Now—only This: the Unseen Light,
where Every Name burns One inside.

—MyKoul