The World Is But A Grand Masjid Poem by Mohammad Younus

The world is but a grand masjid,
its vaulted dome the boundless sky,
where every prayer, every plea,
ascends and lingers, never to die.

The minarets are mountains tall,
their peaks in clouds of mercy steeped,
the mihrab, every heart that calls,
where faith is sown and souls are reaped.

If you proclaim *Allahu Akbar*,
the heavens tremble, truth takes flight,
and every star, a witness bright,
reflects the glory of His might.

But should a tongue dare speak despair,
or sow the seeds of doubt and scorn,
the echoes, too, will twist and turn,
a shadowed veil, a thorn forlorn.

This sacred hall, this vast expanse,
reflects the whispers of our breath,
each word a ripple, each deed a wave,
that shapes the shores of life and death.

So let your voice be soft and pure,
a hymn of love, a song of grace,
for every sound returns to you,
a mirror of your heart's own face.

Speak light, and light will fill the air,
a dawn that breaks through night's embrace.
Let kindness be your constant prayer,
and mercy, your enduring trace.

For when the echoes journey back,
through time and space, through joy and pain,
your heart will hear the voice of God,
a gentle call, a sweet refrain.

And in this masjid, vast and wide,
where every soul is free to roam,
remember: all the earth is sacred,
and every step can lead you home.

— MyKoul