In Every Breath—the Rise, The Sigh, The Fleeting Spark Poem by Mohammad Younus

In every breath—the rise, the sigh, the fleeting spark,
In joy's bright crest, in sorrow's dark—it is You I call.
In silence where the restless mind dissolves to hush,
Where even echoes fade to dust—it is You I call.

When stars grow dim, devoured by the hungry night,
Yet leave their light in endless flight—it is You I call.
Through sorrow's veil, where shadows weave their tangled threads,
Where longing bows its weary head—it is You I call.

Though roses bloom, their petals soft as whispered vows,
Their thorns like crowns on bleeding brows—it is You I call.
When tempests roar and tear the world from root to sky,
Yet in their rage, a lullaby—it is You I call.

When all I knew crumbles to ruins, slow and small,
When even time forgets to crawl—it is You I call.
From every gate where doubt has locked its iron jaws,
From every wall that blindly claws—it is You I call.

O hearts that ache, that tremble, poised upon the brink,
Yet fear to fall, yet fear to sink—it is You I call.
Beneath your cry, beneath the weight of every fall,
The silent name that holds it all—it is You I call.

Though time stands still, though worlds refuse to turn again,
Though dust reclaims the lives of men—it is You I call.
Beyond the end, where memory falters, faint and thin,
Where even ghosts forget their sin—it is You I call.

Though MyKoul burns, though flesh is rendered down to ash,
Though bitter gall consumes the past—it is You I call.
And in that ash, where no footstep has left a trace,
A voice still sings with endless grace—'It is You I call.'

MyKoul