In the land where rivers write old songs,
Where cedar trees have stood for long,
A voice rose up, calm yet strong—
To right the silent, age-old wrong.
Not with swords, nor with might,
But words that burn and hearts that light,
He walked the trails where few would tread,
Where fear was thick, and hope had fled.
He spoke of rights, of truth, of care,
Of forests stolen, skies unfair.
He stood for those whose voices cracked,
Whose dreams were bruised, whose power lacked .
Against the greed that scars the green,
He stands—a force, calm but keen.
For every child, for every tree,
He writes a song of dignity.
A guardian of his mountain land,
With paper, passion, heart, and hand.
Not fame, not gold, he sought to claim,
But justice whispered in his name.
Mushtaq—activist, fierce and true,
The wind of change, the morning dew.
In the valley , his echo stays—
A light that cuts through darkest days.
By ; Tariq Ahmad
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