Awakening Prayer Poem by Mystic Qalandar

Now I lay me down to wake,
To cast aside the self dreams make.
Not to sleep, but to face the deep—
The abyss where silent truths still keep,
The weight of all I dare not hold,
The questions shaking pillars old.

I pray my soul to rise and flame,
To burn the scales that veil its name;
Lest it fade—a spark grown small,
Swallowed by the blindening thrall,
Never marked, nor ever wise,
Unseen beneath unheeding skies.

I pray it claim its place in light,
Forged within the crucible of night.
Not a borrowed glow, but fire its own,
A flame through all long darkness sown,
To climb from ignorance's mire,
And see with vision, free, entire.

Lest it dwell in shadow's bind,
A prisoner to a lesser mind;
Repeating forms, grown stale and worn,
A spirit wasted, frayed, and torn—
Its promise lost, its purpose shorn,
The cruelest fate a soul can find.

Blessed the soul that dares to wake,
That bears the cross of truth's own ache;
That stands before the weight of Real,
And dares to think, and dares to feel,
And sets the hidden wheel to turn,
Its destiny through trial to earn.

Blessed the eyes that truly see,
The chains undone, the self set free;
The spirit fierce, with radiance bright,
That passed unscathed through deepest night,
And claimed its birthright, pure and true—
To wake, and wholly be made new.