An Ode To Insan Poem by Mystic Qalandar

I am Insan—
a flame no hand can hold,
a spark untamed.

Not for gods with hollow eyes,
but for the One—
whose grace is the breath of universe,
the unseen thread that stitches stars.

Before dawn, before time
unfurled its tongue,
I was silence.
Then His whisper stirred the Quesion,
Am I not your lord?
and my soul answered—
a note woven into the hymn
of 'yes, my lord'.

He called, and I woke.
His will carved deep in earth,
His name inscribed within my pulse.
Caliph, keeper, mirror—
a flicker of His light
held in fragile glass.

He shaped me from sacred breath,
from dust born of divine prayers.
No eye can trace His touch,
yet His presence hums
beneath my skin.

Praise—
only to Him,
the True, the One,
who spun the cosmos
from a single word.

In Him, I rise,
I burn,
I vanish—
a breath returning
to the Infinite.