By the light of this cosmic source, your world is illuminated. Is the splendor of humanity's dust yours, or is it mine?

This profound couplet, by Allama Iqbal, speaks to the source of existence. The poet observes that the world is illuminated by the moon's glow, yet he questions the very ownership of human life and spirit. Is the brilliance of man's existence (the 'dusty self') a gift from the divine, or is it something personal? It's a philosophical query about divine grace versus individual reality.