In the hush of dawn, before the day takes hold,

When the world outside is silver, silent, cold,

I bow my head, where earthly noise must cease,

And find the wellspring of an inner peace.

There is a prayer that needs no spoken sound,

Upon the stillness of the heart's own ground.

It is a sigh the soul breathes out to space,

A humble plea for mercy and for grace.

No grand announcement, whispered word, or plea,

Just silent Dua, known to none but thee.

The trembling lip, the tear that starts to fall,

A heart laid bare, that offers up its all.

It does not shout for blessings to arrive,

But simply asks for strength to truly thrive.

For understanding when the path is dim,

For patience when the cup is filled to the brim.

It is the quiet yearning, deep and true,

A conversation only you and I pursue.

And yet, that silent motion, meek and slight,

Can split the clouds and summon blinding light.

For Allah sees the secrets of the soul,

The purest prayers are those we make whole.

Held in the chest, a hope we cannot name,

It lights the wick into a steady flame.

A hidden hope that blossoms into sight,

A comfort born from darkness into light.

My heart makes Dua, and though the world won't hear,

The answer falls like rain and washes fear.

For the quietest prayers that rise to the high,

Bring the loudest blessings down from the sky.