The Spiritual Journey Poem by Mohammad Younus

Eternal, Ceaseless,
the journey unfolds—
a river carving its way
through stone and silence,
never pausing, never arriving.
To believe in arrival
is to mistake the horizon for home.

The path is a spiral,
each turn a return
to what you thought you knew—
but deeper,
unimagined.

Truth, once grasped,
slips into shadow,
revealing a deeper mystery,
a finer thread of existence
woven beyond the eye's reach.
This is not failure—
but the rhythm of awakening.

To awaken is not to arrive
but to shed,
to step through illusion
into yet another dream.
Each unveiling a paradox—
frustrating, because it never ends,
liberating, because it never ends.

Stillness moves,
silent, yet alive—
a breath held between moments,
a whisper between thoughts.
It is here that knowing arises—
not in thunder,
but in the hush before the storm.

The flame within is restless,
a fire that refuses to dim,
a force that will not let you settle
for anything less than truth.
It burns through comfort,
through certainty,
leaving only what is real.

Each breath a renewal,
each moment an undoing.
Past awakenings fade like echoes—
you cannot stand upon them.
The journey is not a monument
but a motion,
a constant unbecoming,
a constant becoming.

For every veil lifted,
another waits—
not to hinder, but to beckon.
There is no end to this unfolding,
no final threshold to cross,
only the invitation to step deeper
into the infinite.

This is the freedom—
not in reaching,
but in the reaching itself.
Not in knowing,
but in the wonder of not knowing.
The path is endless,
and in its endlessness,
you find yourself—
again and again,
for the first time.

—MyKoul