Awakening Of The Heart Poem by Mystic Qalandar

With fingertip, with screen, I trace,
to unseal the heart's hidden chamber—
secrets long guarded
rise into light and peace.

I do not write for vanity.
I write as bread for souls in night,
as honey for the weary tongue,
as solace for the heart undone.

I write as one who shields a flame,
to warm the lost, to call their name.
Take this vessel—
drink slowly,
let its sweetness wash your wounds.

Taste the harmony I found:
music without string,
without sound,
a resonance that stirs the core,
a root the soul remembers.

No more bowing to bitter drink,
spoiled nectar at the brink.
No more grazing barren ground,
when the true feast waits—
quiet, profound.

When the heart's eye opens,
flaws dissolve,
the curse is lifted.
Mercy floods clear as water
through windows wide,
where stars appear.

Remember—
you were shaped for light,
for joy,
for radiance burning bright.
Your Lord whispered in your chest:
a song to guide,
a path of rest.

He tuned your soul for dawn,
to sing beneath the rising skies.
Yet restless,
you embraced discord,
turned away from your own chord.

You carried silence like a blade
within your ribs,
where fire smoldered.
Outward calm,
but deep inside
a hidden flame betrayed you.

You fed your tongue with empty lies,
grease in place of banquet bread.
You traded nectar for decay,
starved your soul along the way.

For years I walked scarred terrain.
I read the heart's encrypted vein.
Through stumble, mercy,
and sharp reproof,
I learned the path that leads to Truth.

The ridge is narrow,
steep and thin.
Many fall—
few begin.
Through mercy,
through self-reproach,
the soul returns,
the heart is coached.

The fitrah waits beneath the dust—
unbroken still,
a sacred trust.
It wakes when truth draws near,
when light breaks through buried walls.

Stay awake.
See with the gaze
no clay can fashion:
the inner sight that knows the Day,
the Light that never fades.

Do not command the dawn—
it will not heed,
it will not bow.
Instead,
unfold with patient grace,
as morning reveals its hidden face.

Be a window,
not a wall.
Let radiance pass through you.
Unlock the heart's most guarded room.
Watch it blossom.
Watch it bloom.

Then songs ascend in praise,
honey soothes the blaze,
a fragrance rises unseen
to guide the longing spirit home.

It bears you back to Source,
to the beginning,
to truth inscribed in the heart.
The feast was never far away.
It never ceased.

The heart awake—
the heart is the feast.