A Vessel Formed Of Grace—so Pure, So Deep Poem by Mystic Qalandar

A vessel formed of grace—so pure, so deep,
Endowed with will, with word, with sound, with sight.
Angels were called to bow, their vigil keep,
Before this human form, on sacred site.

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He shaped me then, His steward of the earth,
To fill the void of those who turned away—
Rebellious Jinn, stripped of their former worth,
Cast out to wilderness, to wander stray.

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And I? A thought, a wonder set apart,
Released to be—a likeness, yet confined.
A seeming exile, playing out my part
Within His order, held within His mind.

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Yet light, refracted, fractured, fiercely cast,
Still pierces darkness, seeks the deepest space.
It paints my features, knowledge found at last:
'I am not merely gleam upon the glass.

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I am the Source.' Before my inner court,
I make my case, present my earnest plea.
But He it is—the truth I must report—
Who placed this taste of His divinity

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Within myself. He wills it stay concealed,
A hidden blaze, both veiled and yet revealed.
For 'behind every veil, ' His presence stands,
Unveiled entirely, bare in all the lands.