We Lost the World, Not Ourselves.
We walked this life in robes of quiet need,
With empty hands, yet hearts that would not plead;
The nights were long, the days were often bare,
But not once did we sell the truth we bear.
Hunger knocked gently, then with ruthless might,
Still we chose dignity over an easy bite;
For bread may fade and fortunes turn to dust,
But a sold-out soul betrays its deepest trust.
The world, a market loud with tempting cries,
Where glitter blinds the weak and dims their eyes;
We stood among them, silent yet aware,
Refusing every price they offered there.
They came with smiles, with promises adorned,
With velvet words that left the spirit torn;
“Just bow a little,” they whispered in disguise,
But Mushtaq stood firm, uncharmed by gilded lies.
Storms passed over us, fierce and unkind,
Yet they could not shake the roots of the mind;
For what is loss if honor still remains?
A crown of truth outweighs a thousand gains.
We spoke what burned within, both raw and clear,
Unafraid of judgment, untouched by fear;
For silence, too, can wound the righteous heart,
When truth is known but kept too far apart.
Yes, we have lost in ways the world can see,
No wealth to boast, no chains of luxury;
But look within,where no eyes can intrude,
There lives a soul untouched, serene, and good.
And so we stand, though storms have had their say,
Unbroken still, in our own quiet way;
For in the end, when all is stripped and through...
We lost the world… but never, ever ourselves.
Mushtaq
