Who Watches, Who Is He? Poem by Mohammad Younus

Who is watching, and who is he?
Who perceives, and whom to see?
Is it I who look, or is he gazing through me?
In the shadow, in the glow,
in the spaces between thought and breath,
he resides—the hidden mystery,
from mountain peaks to the depths of the sea,
in every grain of sand and every crashing wave.

What is time? None can say.
Does he weave its endless thread,
or does time bow to his will?
Light hums, a soothing melody,
whispering truths that slip through the fingers of reason.
Some seek to grasp what remains unseen:
is he the light, or is light he?
Perhaps they are one—inseparable, eternal.

The blind claim sight,
yet they stumble in the vastness of what they cannot know.
Their lips weave answers to unspoken questions,
fabricating keys to doors
they do not see, nor dare to open.
Mysteries lie shrouded, not to deceive,
but to awaken the yearning within.

From the beginning, it has been decreed:
one watches the one who heeds.
Through veils of duality,
hearts ignite like stars seeking the dawn.
Let mine burn bright,
filled with a fire that consumes division,
reducing me to unity's glowing ember.

From the mountain's height to the ocean's roar,
he whispers softly,
'You are more than the fragments you cling to.
You are vast, infinite, free.'
Unity flows like a boundless stream,
breaking walls, washing illusions away.
All is one, and all is he.

So let me cease this fleeting chase—
this endless reaching toward the horizon.
Let me rest in the light that shines in every face,
in the hands that heal, the eyes that meet mine.
For he is time, and he is light,
the eternal watcher who dwells in the seen,
the unseen, the known, and the unknowable.

And if I look closely,
I will find him not apart,
but alive within—
a silent song,
a quiet flame.

—MyKoul