Do Not Disturb The Malangs Poem by Mystic Qalandar

Do not disturb the Malangs—
their hearts are drenched in love's hue.
They dwell in the tavern of souls,
beyond the reach of time,
intoxicated,
forgetful of the world's illusions.
They drink—and vanish
into the gaze of the Beloved.

What could the world know of them?
Their hearts are bound to the Divine—
the Formless, the Soundless,
yet speaking through every breath.

Do not disturb the Malangs—
this ecstasy is the secret of light.
Not the taste of wine,
nor the fever of madness,
but that still instant
when the "I" dissolves,
and only He remains.

When reason's lamp grows dim,
love's sun ascends.
A single spark of love—
one glimpse of His face—
awakens the sleep of centuries.

Do not disturb the Malangs—
they guard the silence of the heart.
They seek no temple, no mosque—
the heart itself their Qibla.
In stillness, they offer—
the prayer of love;
the tazkia of nafs—their ablution,
the fixed gaze—a living prayer.

Whoever erases the self
finds the Eternal;
for to vanish is to arrive,
and love is the path
through sacred annihilation.

Do not disturb the Malangs—
they hear whispers divine—
in the heart's chamber:
You are not—I am.
I am the truth—I Am.

— October,27,2025