What Is About To Happen Poem by Mohammad Yousef

In the whisper of the wind,
there lies a tremor,
a heartbeat of the cosmos,
where shadows dance on the edge of dusk,
and the sun bows low,
as if to listen,
to the murmurs of fate.

The gods, perched high
on their celestial thrones,
gaze into the endless tapestry of time,
threads weaved with starlight and sorrow.
They know the echoes of tomorrow,
the laughter yet to ripple through the air,
the tears that will carve rivers
in the hearts of men.

Ordinary souls,
with their feet planted firmly
on the soil of the present,
navigate life's bustling market,
where hopes and dreams are bartered,
and the sweetness of now
clings to their fingertips.
They breathe in the fragrant chaos,
unaware of the veils that shroud
the horizon of their tomorrows.

But the wise—
the seekers of silence,
those who listen to the pulse
of the universe—
they stand at the crossroads,
where past meets future,
with eyes that pierce through
the fog of uncertainty.

They feel the tremors beneath their feet,
a subtle shift in the earth's breath,
the rustle of leaves
foretelling storms,
and the glimmer of light
that heralds change.
They decipher the patterns,
the dance of the stars,
and the whispers of the ancients
echoing in the chambers of their hearts.

They know that what is about to happen
is not merely a shift of time,
but a symphony of destinies,
the crescendo of lives intertwined,
a tapestry spun with the threads
of every choice, every voice,
woven into the fabric of existence.

So here we stand,
at the precipice of now,
where the past lingers like a ghost,
and the future flutters like a butterfly,
awaiting the moment
when the wise shall speak,
when the gods shall nod,
and the ordinary will finally see
the grace of what is about to unfold,
in the sacred dance of life.