Direction
By Najah Shuqair
It is a whisper,
felt in the veins of the earth,
guiding the heart through winding paths,
between shadows and sunlit open spaces.
It is the compass inside,
that pulls without asking,
a rhythm of instinct,
leading through the unknown.
Sometimes it is a steady hand,
a quiet voice of certainty,
other times it is the wind,
tugging at the edges of the soul,
unseen, but always there.
In every step, the horizon shifts,
a new question, a fresh answer.
The way is never straight,
but the journey has a language of its own,
written in footprints and stars.
Direction is not the end,
but the motion that keeps the world turning,
a dance with time,
a map made of moments.