Poetry Is For Me A Light

Poetry is for me a light,
piercing the veil of the ordinary,
passing through the prism of my soul,
scattering into hues I cannot name—
colors that dance on the edge of understanding,
because I seek to unravel the mysteries,
because I refuse to turn away from the unknown,
because I embrace my existence,
pure, unshaken, divine in its essence.

Poetry is the language of my soul,
the map of my journey,
the mirror of my truth.
It is the light that guides me,
the prism that reveals me,
the song that carries me home.

I am a breath of the Eternal,
cradled in fragile clay,
a vessel of dust and stardust intertwined.
I drink from Kawthar’s boundless stream,
its cool waters of remembrance quenching my thirst,
each sip a return to the source,
a reminder of who I am,
and who I have always been.

I gaze upon the blush of dawn,
the pale blues of the morning’s hymn,
a canvas painted with the promise of renewal.
The sky whispers, soft and sure—
spring is near,
and with it, the world stirs awake,
its heartbeat echoing my own.

And in that promise, I feel the Divine,
woven into the fabric of all things,
a golden thread binding me to the unseen.
It is in the rustle of leaves,
the laughter of a child,
the silence between breaths,
the stillness of a star-strewn night.
It is in the ache of longing,
the joy of connection,
the quiet surrender to what is greater than myself.

So poetry is for me—
because I live,
not merely in body, but in spirit,
because I breathe,
drawing in the essence of the infinite,
because I feel,
the weight and wonder of existence,
because I am,
a spark of the Infinite,
a melody of the Everlasting.

MyKoul