Alastu Poem by Mystic Qalandar

"Why do you hunger
to know yourself? "—
he asked.

And I faltered,
"I don't know, "
the words breaking like smoke
from my lips.

But within,
I knew.
I have always known—
since that eternal moment
when the Voice thundered:
Alastu bi rabbikum?
Am I not your Lord?

And I answered—
not with lips,
but with the trembling marrow of my soul:
"Yes."
A yes that vibrates across lifetimes,
a yes that breathes through my lungs,
a yes that echoes in the hidden cave of my ribs.

Even now,
I feel that ancient shaking,
that divine current in my veins.
Every exhale,
the resonance of His voice.
Every inhale,
the universe returning the refrain.

It is not a voice bound by words,
but a voice seeping through everything.
The flight of a sparrow,
the burning of a star,
the ache in my bones—
all of them speak.
And my ears do not merely hear—
they see.
They see sound threading through creation,
a golden river flowing
from the crown of existence.

I know now
the only way to steady
this trembling call of the Creator
is to turn inward,
to sit at the gates of silence,
to gather thought
like kindling around a fire
and listen.
Not with impatience,
but with the surrendered attention of the heart.

For my mind and heart,
though worlds apart,
are bound together
by the rope of remembering—
a golden tether
that loops my neck
to the One who spoke.

But how can I teach this listening
to you?
How do I describe the sound
that carries no syllable,
the whisper beyond language,
the murmur weaving through the veins of time?

I cannot.
I can only point,
with tears in my eyes
and fire in my chest,
to the silence where it lives.

You must hear it
for yourself.
You must let the heavens split open
inside your ribcage.
The Voice is calling—
not from afar,
not from beyond,
but from within you,
forever echoing:
Alastu bi rabbikum?

And somewhere inside,
the answer still waits:
"Yes."