A lo-fi hymnlike confessional, tender and restrained. A female alto voice, close-mic’d, half-sung and prayer-like, carries the lyrics with aching intimacy. Upright piano and faint organ provide slow, hymnlike chords, swelling gently behind the vocal. The arrangement remains sparse and reverent, every pause and breath given weight, as if whispered in the stillness of night. A quiet hymn of return, reflection, and clarity.

[Lyrics]

I was lost, and you brought me near,
Safe from swells that pull me clear.

What I longed, you kept for me;
Was standing there as sure can be.

I only had to look once more,
To keep hope and see courage soar.

Your calm has carried me through;
And echoed all I hold as true.

O Tell me now, do you feel me near?
Do you see now that I see?

I have strayed, and you've led me home,
Through nights where the bravest fall.

O true guide and my anchor firm;
My harbor of peace through it all.

I was blind, and you've let me see,
Where the shores meet the sea.

O Tell me now, do you feel me near?
Do you see what I now see?

O I was lost, and now I’m here
I was adrift, but now I’m clear

Once Lost, Now Here (My Quiet Hymn)

A lo-fi acapella confessional, stripped to nothing but the voice. A smoky female alto, close-mic’d and unadorned, carries every phrase with sighs, pauses, and trembling breath. No guitar, no piano, no rhythm — only the naked presence of the human voice in fragile testimony. Each silence feels weighted, each word falls like a journal entry spoken aloud. A raw, intimate piece that leaves no room for distraction, only closeness and confession.

[LYRICS]

I’ll be your umbrella when the sky lets go,
I’ll be your glasses when the world’s a blur.
I’ll be your small lighter when the power’s out,
Your calm in the thunder when you’re full of doubt.

They say what’s lost ain’t always gone,
Sometimes it waits to lean on.

I’m your lost and found when the world spins round,
A friend at your side when you’re feeling down.
Button for your coat when it will not close,
The flower you pressed in a book no one knows.

That one glove you lost, yes sir, I’m her.
I’ll be your map when you lose your street.
That lucky coin waiting under your seat,
I’ll be your charger when your spark runs weak.

I’ve been forgotten and I’ve worn some dust,
Still I’m your mirror when you need to trust.

I’m your lost and found when the world spins round,
Come find me again when you’re feeling down.
I was yours all along, just out of sight.

Just out of sight.

Lost and Found (Bare Voice)

A hushed confessional set for oud, qanoun, and nay — voice and strings in quiet dialogue. The vocal stays low and close, carried by delicate ornament and long breaths, while the instruments answer in soft phrases. No percussion, no modern gloss; just candle-lit air and a story told under its breath.

[LYRICS]

Lost and found. Funny Place.
You never know till you do.

I’ll be your umbrella when the sky lets go,
I’ll be your glasses when the world’s a blur.
I’ll be your small lighter when the power’s out,
Your calm in the thunder when you’re full of doubt.

They say what’s lost ain’t always gone.
Sometimes it waits to lean on.

I’m your lost and found when the world spins round,
A friend at your side when you’re feeling down.
Button for your coat when it will not close,
The flower you pressed in a book no one knows.

That one glove you lost, yes sir, I’m her.
I’ll be your map when you lose your street.
That lucky coin waiting under your seat.
I’ll be your charger when your spark runs weak.

I’ve been forgotten and I’ve worn some dust,
Still I’m your mirror when you need to trust.

I’m your lost and found when the world spins round,
Come find me again when you’re feeling down.
I was yours all along, just out of sight.

Just out of sight.

Lost and Found (A Thousand Nights)

A reflective, modern pay-it-forward song with intimate vocal, acoustic guitar, soft piano, and brushed drums. Rolling 6/8 sway, lyric-led verses, and a gentle lift in the refrain. Pop-friendly polish, nature imagery, and a warm, optimistic arc.

[LYRICS]

When the night draws down her curtain,
stars keep faithful count of light;
paths are veiled yet sure and certain,
as orbits sing in ordered flight.
Watch them move with steady measure,
wax and wane, then turn again;
so the heart can find its treasure,
of mercy falling like the rain.

Lo, it flows, it flows forever,
turning mist to kindly cloud;
then fall in grace that none can sever,
to make deserts bloom aloud.

Ask the Bees of their patient labor,
of how that nectar comes and goes;
ask the flowers, ask your neighbor,
of what your tender silence sows.
If a heart is bowed and grieving,
wipe that tear and tarry nigh;
we will reap by gentle leaving,
gentle good beneath the sky.

Lo, it flows, it flows forever,
turning mist to kindly cloud;
then fall in grace that none can sever,
to make deserts bloom aloud.

Like sunrise to sunset turning,
Wandering souls shall soon return;
you who read the sky by tracing,
we learn to love as seasons turn.
Unto thee is beauty granted,
When thy Yes is true and free;
Rooted, watered, kindly planted,
You’ll grow in love that others see.

Lo, it flows, it flows forever,
turning mist to kindly cloud;
then fall in grace that none can sever,
to make deserts bloom aloud.

Ye Who Would Read the Sky (Pay It Forward)

Gallop to the Unseen unfolds like a journey across open ground, measured at first, then growing with momentum until every note feels alive with motion. The piece begins in quiet focus, the oud tracing a solitary line that feels like the first step onto an unknown path. Its phrasing is deliberate, searching, touched with the light of anticipation.

Gradually, a rhythm stirs beneath, not forceful, but insistent, as if distant hoofbeats are forming somewhere beyond sight. The violin enters beside the oud, not as an echo, but as a companion, their melodies moving in step, sometimes merging, sometimes pulling apart like riders keeping parallel pace. Together they create a sound that breathes and moves like a living landscape.

As the music grows, energy replaces hesitation. The rhythm steadies, the melody begins to lean forward, and the interplay between oud and violin turns spirited, a conversation between trust and tension, instinct and direction. Each return to the main theme feels like a push toward something just out of reach, a horizon the listener can feel but never quite see.

Near the end, the ensemble holds its breath, a pause before the final stride, and then releases into a swift, radiant close. The cadence lands with quiet certainty, like a rider who has seen enough of the path to know where it leads.

This is music for those drawn to movement, for listeners who understand that the unseen isn’t to be feared, but pursued.

Gallop to the Unseen · Oud and Violin Ride Along

Reins and Saddle sets off with a bright sway. The oud sketches a teasing line, and the violin slips in beside it, moving in step, sharing the smile. The groove is light and quick, a smooth, bouncing motion that turns the path into a playful chase. Nothing feels heavy. Everything flows with lift and shine.

The melody circles back in little bursts, like riders drawing close, pulling away, and rejoining with a wink. Short pauses sharpen the grin, then the music glides forward again. Often the oud and violin meet on the same line, then part into lively replies that keep the spark alive.

As it builds, the rhythm stays easy and the phrases lean into a clean finish. The close is clear and cheerful, a tidy arrival that leaves the ear buzzing. It is a duet about speed, charm, and control. It is a ride made for open air and quick hearts.

Reins and Saddle · Oud and Violin Rumba Mischief

This track is made for slow, attentive miles. The kind of walk where you notice light on walls, wind on your face, and the sound of your own breath. It does not hurry you. It gives you space. The pulse is gentle, the edges are soft, and the music invites your thoughts to line up and settle. On a mindful-walk playlist, it works as a centering piece. Steady enough to keep you moving. Calm enough to keep your mind clear.

“Where the Sand Remembers” opens in stillness. Oud alone, close and unhurried, shaping a line that draws the ear inward. The violin joins as a quiet companion. At times it shadows the oud in near unison. At times it answers from a step away. The dialogue reads like thought and counter-thought rather than call and command.

The middle section widens in small circles. Nylon guitar stays in the background with soft arpeggios that color the air without pulling focus. Short pauses let the melody settle. When it returns, it carries a touch more light, as if the horizon has moved closer.

Near the close, a subtle percussive layer arrives, felt more than heard. It does not shift the character or the pace. It simply lifts the final phrases so the last cadence lands with quiet certainty. The oud states the closing idea plainly. The violin holds a warm line above it. The piece exhales rather than stops.

EMOTIONAL DELIVERY

Reflective rather than sad. Movement without urgency. Clarity without push. It is the sound of walking with your thoughts and finding they have started to walk with you.

Where the Sand Remembers · Quiet Oud and Violin Reins

This piece moves at a walking pace. The oud speaks plainly, close to the ear, while guitar and cajón keep a soft circle of time. Each accent lands like a quiet hoofbeat, calm and sure. The melody carries Nahawand warmth with a hint of Hijaz at the turns. It does not hurry. It holds its line. By the final cadence the path feels familiar and open, as if the ground itself has settled underfoot.

The Known Path · Over Soft Hooves

This track is inspired by the timeless song Zourouni Koulla Sana Marra (“Visit me once every year”) by the revolutionary Egyptian composer Sayed Darwish. The original is known for its timeless melody and poignant lyrics; It's a quiet dialogue between longing and grace that still resonates across cultures.

In this reimagined instrumental interpretation, the oud speaks first, close and warm, setting the tone like a doorstep conversation at dusk. The violin joins as a second voice, curious and emotional, weaving in and out of the oud’s phrases as though remembering a familiar story. The guitar keeps a soft, steady pulse through understated arpeggios, while brushed percussion outlines the heartbeat of a gentle four-beat walk.

Throughout, flamenco influences tease the melody’s journey- a hint of zambra glow, the soft pulse of tangos, and the poised sway of soleá por bulerías near the close. These flavors drift through the piece like passing moods, guiding the listener without ever overtaking the stillness at its heart.

This is not a performance meant to dazzle, but a meeting between two musical worlds. The melody speaks as if at a doorway- graceful, nostalgic, and assured. By the closing cadence, the air feels calm and near; the visit complete.

Perfect for reflective playlists, quiet evenings, or moments when memory needs space to breathe.

Zourouni Koulla Sana Marra · A Flamenco-Threaded Reimagining for Oud and Violin

This project began as a passing thought while I was immersed in classical music, yet surrounded by the tones and textures that shape much of my own work. During a rare quiet stretch, I decided to explore that idea—to take the familiar melodies we all know and let them breathe through the instruments and phrasing that speak most naturally to me.

As the pieces came together, I realized something distinctive was forming. It may not be everyone’s cup of tea (certainly not for purists) but it’s an honest experiment, offered to anyone who enjoys expanding their meditative or reflective playlists with something just a little off the beaten path.

I often end up creating multiple versions of my work, each tied to a different mood or feeling I can’t quite choose between. This collection came about the same way, born from that pull in different directions. Some pieces feel closer to me than others, yet I find myself returning to each for its own reason. Perhaps one will do the same for you. Listen, explore, and if a track finds its place with you, let it stay.

Enjoy.

Für Elise · Reimagined · Oud/Violin/Percussions · Soleá

This collection takes the first movement of Moonlight Sonata and lets it speak through the voice of the oud. The aim is simple and honest. Keep the melody close, listen for the quiet between notes, and let a middle eastern color soften the light and deepen the shadow.

Each piece follows the same path but with a different step. Some linger in stillness. Others find a faint inner pulse. All return to a small hook that feels familiar yet new, like meeting an old friend at a different hour of the night.

It is not meant to replace the original. It is another way of hearing it. If a track keeps you company while you read, walk, or rest, then it has done its work. Enjoy.

Moonlight Sonata · Reimagined · Slow Oud in Noble and Open Luminous Space

I’ve always lived at the crossroads of music and poetry — where feeling becomes form, and melody turns memory into meaning. Whether it’s a lingering jazz note, a well-placed rhyme, or a shift in tempo that tells a deeper story, I’m drawn to that quiet magic where art reflects life with a little more style.

My roots are in classic music — the kind that doesn’t chase the moment but lingers with you long after the last note. Over time, that love expanded into poetry writing and jazz — especially the kind that swings, speaks, and smirks all at once. Jazz, to me, isn’t just a genre; it’s a personality. A conversation. A little tilt of the head and a grin that knows more than it says.

When I set out to create an album, it’s rarely just a collection of songs. I approach it like a personal playlist — one that drifts and flows as if the entire tracklist were one long, uninterrupted piece. Each track leans into the next, shifting mood, pace, or voice, but always carrying the same thread of feeling. I want you to listen the way I do — not as a shuffle of moments, but as a cinematic arc. One breath that lasts an hour.

Lyrically, my work is rooted in lived experience. Sometimes it’s obvious. Other times it’s just the skeleton of a memory, dressed up in wit, irony, or longing. I draw from real-life events, then let the poet in me twist, stretch, or sweeten them to taste. Depending on the tone of the album — playful, romantic, nostalgic, or something in between — I try to keep the emotional truth intact while giving it a fresh coat of creativity. A little humor where it fits. A deeper dive where it hurts.

My newest jazz album continues this tradition — short-lined swing tracks, conversational duets, and tongue-in-cheek storytelling. It’s an homage to late-night alleyway ballads, rooftop serenades, and train station goodbyes — all bound together with a sense of charm and cohesion. Each song is its own little scene, but together they tell a story — one you can revisit with each replay.

Thanks for stopping by my profile. I hope you find something that earns a spot on your repeat-play list — a melody, a lyric, or a moment that feels like it was written just for you.

Moonlight Sonata · Reimagined · Slow Oud in Noble and Open Luminous Space

Dikheel Aldikheel

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