Burning Bush Poem by Mystic Qalandar

I have no concern for the name I bear,
Nor the purpose that brought me here,
Nor the project that lies ahead.
For I know only this: I am.

I am the flame that does not perish,
The bush that burns and is not consumed.
My voice rises on the fire's breath,
As the fire speaks its will through me.

Like Moses in the desert waste,
I stand before this impossible sign—
A presence, self-igniting,
A mystery veiled in purest light.

It consumes and does not destroy,
Reveals but will not explain.
In its trembling brilliance, I learn:
The self is not the ash of past,
Nor the shadow of a future self,
But a living spark
That neither time nor knowledge—
Can extinguish.

I am called,
Not by a voice upon the wind,
But from within the core—
From the fire that names itself
In a silence more ancient—
Than language.

I no longer seek a history,
Nor chase a distant horizon.
I am here. I am burning.
Rooted in the earth, yet—
Clothed in flame—
A finite testament
To the eternal.

—MyKoul