This track is a companion track - and each of its lines are built from the series of sessions developed by the Truth Promoters Group for Muharram (Ashura) 1448 (June 2026) and Safar (Arbaeen) 1448 (July/August 2026).
Where our first track, Where Is Your Brother, began the chain at the first grave ever dug, this one goes back further still — to before the field, before the body, to the covenant every soul gave before it had a tongue to give it with.
Each of the verses encapsulates the lessons of Session 2 of the Shahada (Witness) Series — The Oldest Covenant on Earth — and of the maqtal recited that same night, The Inherited Tear.
The relevant sermon and maqtal links are provided alongside each verse.
Lyrics for the Song (Anthem/Nasheed)
Intro
Before the body, and before the breath,
before the first of mornings ever came,
He gathered every soul that would be born,
and every one of them said the same.
Session 2 — The Oldest Covenant on Earth. The sermon opens by going not to another field, but to before the field — to before the body. Every soul, before it was given a body, was gathered before its Lord and asked one question; and the answer it gave, in a language older than any language, is the oldest shahada in all of existence.
Verse 1
He drew us out before we had a name
and made each soul a witness of its own;
He asked no point of doctrine and no law —
He asked us if He was our Lord alone.
And every soul that ever was, and every soul unborn,
the faithful and the faithless both, said yes — and we were sworn.
He wrote it in the chest of us; He set it in the clay;
and the pull you feel toward what is true is older than your day.
Session 2 — Surah al-A’raf (7:172). The night’s opening recitation: “Am I not your Lord?” — and the answer, “Yes, indeed, we bear witness.” The sermon draws out that this primordial testimony is the foundation of humanity’s relationship with its Creator, and the origin of the responsibility to bear witness to the truth.
“Yes — indeed, we bear witness” — that was all,
and it was said before we had a chest
to say it with. So every ashhadu
is not a new word: it’s the oldest, pressed
back through a body that forgot the sound.
Chorus
Session 2. The question of this Muharram is not whether you are a witness. You already are one — by the testimony you gave before you were born. The question is whether you remember it, and whether you honour what you said.
“Am I not your Lord?” — before the body, before the name;
and every soul that ever was said yes, and said the same.
The tear you weep for Husayn was in a prophet’s eye before:
you are not producing grief. You are its heir. Weep more.
Maqtal 2 — The Inherited Tear. The maqtal of the second night reflected on the grief carried across generations of prophets and witnesses before it ever reached Karbala. The chorus of this track takes its name and its claim directly from it.
Verse 2
Then Noah called across the water: come —
the mountain will not hold you. Board with me.
He chose the mountain. And the waves closed in.
A prophet’s blood is not a guarantee.
Then Abraham was told to lift the knife,
and God reached down and stayed it on the stone —
not because the offering had been refused,
but because it was deferred. And not his own.
Session 2 — the chain of prophetic witnesses. Noah’s son chose the mountain. The lesson the sermon draws is unsparing: proximity to a prophet saves no one. The covenant is answered individually, or it is not answered at all. And Ibrahim’s raised knife was stayed not because the sacrifice was refused, but because it was deferred — to another son, on another ground.
Chorus
“Am I not your Lord?” — before the body, before the name;
and every soul that ever was said yes, and said the same.
The tear you weep for Husayn was in a prophet’s eye before:
you are not producing grief. You are its heir. Weep more.
Verse 3
Maqtal 2 — The Inherited Tear.
They brought the head of John in on a plate,
a favour to a dancer, at a feast;
and the blood inside the basin would not still
until a reckoning was sent. And then it ceased.
His father ran; a tree split at the grain
and took a prophet in and closed the bark.
They brought a saw and cut through both of them,
and neither made a sound inside the dark.
But the blood they spilled at Karbala has not
been settled by an army or a sword:
it boils in the veins of history tonight,
and will not rest until He gives the word.
Session 2 — Yahya ibn Zakariyya (a.s.). The sermon establishes the bond the Imam himself drew: Imam Husayn saw his own martyrdom in the mirror of John’s. At every stop on the road to Karbala he thought of the prophet beheaded for refusing to endorse the unlawful — and knew he was walking the same road, toward the same sword. The secret of the resemblance, as the scholars put it, is that both were the sacrifice of a ruler’s tyranny and appetite. But where John’s blood was stilled by a reckoning, Karbala’s has not been settled by any army since.
Bridge
On Uhud’s hill they cut a man apart
and took the liver living from his heart;
the mouth that chewed it could not get it down,
and passed along the taste, and passed the crown.
Her son was Muawiyah; his, Yazid —
but do not say it travelled in the seed:
his own wife wept and named it where he stood.
The covenant is carried. It is not blood.
Session 2 — the covenant is not inherited. The sharpest turn in the night. The chain of witness is not a bloodline and neither is its opposite: the covenant is carried by choice, answered soul by soul, exactly as it was first asked. Yazid’s own wife wept and named the crime in the room where he stood — the proof that no one is condemned by their household, and no one is saved by it.
Verse 4
And Gabriel came down: no law, no verse,
no judgement, and no order to obey —
a handful of red earth, and one flat sentence:
this is the ground where he will fall one day.
He wept, and wrapped the dust, and gave it to his wife:
keep this — and on the day it turns, you’ll understand.
She kept it through the wars. She kept it through his death.
One Muharram afternoon she looked. It was blood in her hand.
And she screamed — and said the sentence that the women of that house
have said in every century since: they have killed Husayn.
Session 2 — the turbah and Umm Salamah. The narration the sermon rests on: the Prophet (S) gave the earth to Umm Salamah with the instruction to place it in a glass bottle and keep her eyes upon it — “when it turns into fresh blood, Husayn has been killed.” She kept it through the years, through his death, through the decades of waiting. On the tenth of Muharram, 61 AH, after the time of the noon prayer — the very hour the narrations tell us the Imam fell — she looked, and it was fresh blood, and she cried out, because she knew.
Ayatollah Jawadi-Amoli draws out what it means that the soil itself responded: the earth of Karbala attained its sanctity from the very day Jibra’il brought it to the Prophet, and the boiling of blood from that earth in the hands of Umm Salamah shows that the whole of creation — even the dust — is aware of the martyrdom of the Friend of God, and mourns it.
Chorus
“Am I not your Lord?” — before the body, before the name;
and every soul that ever was said yes, and said the same.
The tear you weep for Husayn was in a prophet’s eye before:
you are not producing grief. You are its heir. Weep more.
Maqtal 2 — The Inherited Tear.
Outro
So whose tear is that, then — the one that is in your eye?
It was Adam’s over Abel; it was Noah’s on the flood;
it was Zechariah’s in the tree, and the mother of John’s;
it was in the Prophet’s palm, in a fistful of red mud.
You did not make this grief tonight. It was given. It came
down through the generations to your eye, and it is yours to keep.
Don’t spend it on your week. The tear is for one name.
And the oldest question in creation is asked of you. Tonight:
Am I not your Lord?
(and every soul said yes)
Am I not your Lord?
(so where do you stand now?)
Keep the bottle on the shelf.
(and sleep with the taper lit)
Maqtal 2 — The Inherited Tear, and the close of Session 2. The maqtal begins with Habil — the first innocent victim and the first witness to truth — and carries the grief forward through every prophet until it arrives at Karbala, not as an isolated event but as the culmination of a long history of sacrifice, fidelity and devotion to God. The outro hands that inheritance to the listener, and puts the oldest question in creation back to them. The candle at the end is the one lit in Where Is Your Brother; the bottle beside it is Umm Salamah’s.
Production Credits & Transparency
We believe in blending original, human creativity with the latest digital tools to bring these historical stories to life in new ways.
Lyrics & Concept: 100% original, written by our human team, based on the sermons and maqatil indicated alongside each of the verses.
Music & Vocals: Composed and generated using Suno AI.
Visuals & Animation: Lego-style cinematic scenes generated and meticulously montaged using AI visualisation tools by our team.
A note on the visuals: Out of respect, this animation never depicts the faces of the Prophet Muhammad (S), the Ahl al-Bayt (AS), or the angel Jibra’il (AS). Their presence is carried entirely through light, symbol and shadow — a shaft of light, the alam, a riderless horse, a pair of hands. The scenes of martyrdom throughout are kept symbolic rather than graphic.
