Battle Of Hind — The Heart's Battlefield Poem by Mystic Qalandar

In the secret chambers of the heart,
a hidden Hind dwells—
where desires rise as glittering idols,
and temples of pride tremble in their own air.

The 'I' kneels,
bowing to its quivering reflection.
Within that silent circle,
a war unfolds—
no sound, yet vaster than the sky.

Legions of self move like shadows;
ramparts of greed crumble
at the glance of light.
Envy looses burning arrows,
Fear casts a shroud to blind my sight.

I temper the dagger of patience
in the heart's deep well,
raise the shield of remembrance
against the decay of time.

This heart is the true Hind—
each fleeting moment
enlisted in the eternal.
Love, soldier of the dawn,
scrapes light from the dark well of night.

I lie buried in the dust of 'I, '
yet rise alive by the breath of 'Hu.'
In surrender, a new hour awakens—
annihilation resting
in the arms of the Abiding.

So when they cry, The Battle of Hind!
know this—
it is no war upon the skin of any map,
but the struggle within the heart's citadel,
where the 'I' must fall,
and only 'He' remains.

—October,15,2025