Under the wide and patient sky, Millions walk where prophets cried. Simple cloth, no crown, no name Every heartbeat sounds the same. Around the Kaaba, soft and slow, Like rivers turning as they flow, Prayers rise with dusty feet, Where longing and surrender meet. From Safa’s hope to Marwah’s grace, Each step recalls Hajar’s faith. On Arafat, beneath the sun, Souls whisper, “Lord, make us one.” Then Muzdalifah’s quiet night, Stars hanging low like lantern light. And Mina hears the pilgrim say: “I leave my pride and fear today.” Hajj is not a journey far It is returning to who we are And to our lord and creator