The Soul Stirs Before the World - Entry One.

                                    Bahari's "Egrets" Acrylic on Canvas. 3'x3' for sale.
 

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Entry One: The Soul Stirs Before the World

🕒 2:50 a.m.

It has become familiar now—this silent waking. Not by alarm or disturbance, but something more delicate, like a nudge from beyond the veil.

I sit on the bed. No lights, no movement, just the rhythm of breath. Sometimes the need to use the toilet returns me to the body, but often, I just sit still. I recite what I remember of the Qur’an—verses flowing not from effort but from yearning. Surah Al-Falaq. Surah Al-Nas. Ayat al-Kursi. Sometimes even just one name: Allah.

I pray for forgiveness.
For myself.
For my late wife, whose presence still visits the edges of my sleep.
For my mother and father.
For those who have gone, loved and never forgotten.

I ask to be shielded:
—from my own nafs,
—from the whispers of Shaitan and jinn,
—from the tests I may not be strong enough to bear,
—and from the wrath of the One I only seek mercy from.

Then the pen calls. Or the keyboard.
This, now—this quiet pouring—is a continuation of that prayer.
It is worship by another name.

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