There are moments that do not make headlines, but they change the shape of your soul.

A fallen feather on a gravel path. The sigh of wind through a cracked window. A steaming cup resting on a wooden sill at dawn. These are the things that have written this book — not in ink, but in stillness.

I did not set out to write a book. I set out to return. To myself. To silence. To something deeper than distraction. And in the quiet, words came — slow, earthy, honest. What you now hold in your hands is not just a book of prose and poetry — it's a lantern for anyone wandering through the noise, looking for the meadow inside.

This is a book for the ones who speak softly to animals. For those who find sermons in soil and lullabies in firelight. For the lovers of dusk, of handwritten letters, of growing their own food, or simply slowing down their breath.

If you are tired of rushing, this is your invitation to stop.

Welcome to the meadow.

— Fazal Abubakkar Esaf
July, 2025