The Shepherd Returned, Flute In Hand Poem by Mohammad Younus

The Shepherd returned, flute in hand,
To reclaim me, his lost lamb.
A guardian of the sacred tune,
He played beneath the silver moon.

Courage, once lost in shadowed haze,
I found anew beneath his gaze.
A tune not of this earthly realm,
Each note a thread to overwhelm
The restless mind that sought to flee,
Chasing illusions of greener meads.

The evil tunes fell hushed and still,
As his divine melody bent my will.
A peace descended, vast and deep,
Soft as dawn's first light, sweet as sleep.

The fractured soul rejoiced once more,
Hearing the song it knew before—
A love that whispered through the skies,
A harmony ancient, the song of Alast.

Drawn by the song, the lamb returned,
Leaving behind the fears it had learned.
No wolves, no jackals dared pursue;
Its steps now steady, its heart renewed.

With tender hands, the Shepherd knelt,
Adorning my ear with silver bells.
Each bell a voice, a song of grace,
Weaving melodies through time and space.

Beneath the heavens, vast and wide,
The lamb now grazed, the fear denied.
And in the wind, the bells would ring,
Their chime, a hymn to the eternal King.

The Shepherd sat on an ancient stone,
Playing his flute, a tune unknown.
Guarding his lamb in endless love,
A peace restored, born from above.

MyKoul