Beneath the silvered veil of night, it dawns,
A month where mercy like a river flows,
The crescent heralds virtue’s gentle thorns,
And hearts with fervent piety compose.
A sacred whisper rides the cooling breeze,
Adorned in patience, fasting hearts align,
The soul ascends where carnal cravings cease,
To sip from wells of grace, both pure and divine.
The dawn’s first breath begets a vow anew,
Where hunger's pang becomes the spirit's balm,
A furnace fierce where sins their shape undo,
And tempests yield to sanctity and calm.
The tongue is bridled, rage in silence tames,
As mercy blossoms through the famished lips,
With every prayer the soul its cage disclaims,
While heaven's light through tear-streaked lashes drips.
The pangs of thirst, a tutor wise, severe,
Distills in hearts the poor man's silent ache,
A bond of empathy both bright and clear,
Where alms like rivers in the moonlight break.
The sun’s stern gaze upon the parched terrain,
A mirror cast for hearts in trial refined,
Each moment holds the promise of the refrain,
While patience crowns the fasting soul resigned.
The Maghrib call, a mercy's sweet reprieve,
Where dates like gems the faithful lips embrace,
A nectar for the wounds the day did weave,
And gratitude in whispered hymns finds a place.
The tarawih sways in rhythmic, measured flight,
A tide of voices brushing heaven's shore,
Each prostrate forms a beacon in the night,
Their hearts unburdened, purified once more.
The Quran’s verses echo through the dark,
A celestial symphony, both fierce and mild,
The soul enkindled like a smoldering spark,
Draws wisdom’s balm and mercy undefiled.
In Lailatul Qadr’s veiled, ethereal glow,
The skies unfurl with mercy’s unseen rain,
A thousand months in blessings overflow,
Where destiny is carved and sins are slain.
The angel’s wings in unseen vigil keep,
As seekers pray beneath the moon’s embrace,
The pen of fate in silence starts to weep,
And mercy carves redemption into grace.
The gold of charity in shadows glows,
A quiet river feeding hands unseen,
The orphan’s sigh, the widow’s silent throes,
Find solace where the giver’s heart has been.
The fragrance of suhoor at twilight’s edge,
A humble feast where gratitude abides,
While hunger waits beneath its silent pledge,
And dawn’s first blush the heart in patience guides.
The breaking fast, a symphony of peace,
Where bread and dates upon the tongue bestow
A fleeting taste, yet boundless, sweet release,
As mercy's breath through weary spirits flows.
The tongue, a vessel holding pearls unspilled,
A gate where prayer rides on whispered grace,
While envy’s fire and slander’s venom stilled,
Give birth to light where shadows found their place.
The soul, a desert flowered by restraint,
Where thorn and bloom in fragrant union rise,
Each fast a hymn, both penitence and paint,
A canvas where the soul's redemption lies.
The heart, once tethered to the world's deceit,
Now dances in the sanctuary of prayer,
Its shackles broken, burdens at His feet,
A song of hope ascending through the air.
The breath of patience in the scorching noon,
A melody that tempers fleshly wars,
The heart, a lute beneath the sun and moon,
Resonates to heaven’s distant stars.
Each pang endured, a jewel upon the crown,
Each prayer whispered, mercy’s gentle tide,
The soul’s ascent where worldly cares are drown,
And angels walk forever by its side.
The tears that fall in midnight's tranquil shade,
Are gems that pave the pathway to the Throne,
Where every sigh and whispered prayer conveyed
Is etched in light, forever carved, unknown.
The tempter’s chains in slumbered silence lie,
While gates of mercy open wide and bright,
The sinner’s hands uplifted to the sky,
Find grace descending in the cloak of night.
The winds of mercy sweep through hearts contrite,
Where grudges melt beneath forgiveness’ flame,
The soul reclothed in mercy’s tranquil light,
With every sin erased, each scarred name.
The nights adorned with supplication's breath,
Where veils of darkness cloak the pilgrim's shame,
A thousand sins dissolved in whispered death,
And heaven’s scroll inscribes a newborn name.
The moon ascends, a silvered lamp on high,
Its crescent smile is a harbinger of peace,
While hearts in hunger’s furnace purified,
Find in restraint a boundless sweet release.
The breaking dawn, a canvas bathed in gold,
Where whispered prayers paint the waking sky,
Each fast a story, patient, bright, untold,
Inscribed where mercy’s unseen blessings lie.
The beggar’s bowl, the orphan’s silent plea,
No longer met with indifference cold,
But filled with alms, with mercy’s symphony,
A testament where selfless hearts unfold.
The soul’s ablution in the midnight hour,
A cleansing tide where mercy’s rivers pour,
Where whispered sins like petals fall and cower,
Beneath the grace that mercy’s hand restores.
The final eve where parting shadows creep,
A bittersweet farewell upon the tongue,
Where angels count the tears the faithful weep,
And mercy’s hymn in silent hearts is sung.
Eid’s promise waits beyond the crescent’s wane,
A feast of joy where mercy’s grace is crowned,
Yet hearts still ache for Ramadan’s refrain,
Its fragrant hours where heaven’s gates unbound.
O Ramadan, thou mirror of the soul,
Thy days, a crucible where hearts refine,
Though moon shall wane, thy blessings still extol,
A testament where mercy’s light shall shine.