Freedom From Borrowed Thoughts Poem by Mystic Qalandar

Entangled in a mirage of deceit,
My soul, wrapped in illusion's shroud—
Unaware of its own breath,
Blind to truth.
Only obsession,
Self-deception's cage,
And the fraying threads
Of borrowed thoughts
From which frail dreams were spun,
Barring my escape.
A torpor so deep
It drowned sense in hollow ecstasy—
No path to conscious light!
Endless oblivion, where
Ideologies, superstitions, conspiracies
Festered into a leaden burden,
Bowing my shoulders.
Beneath that weight,
My name
Was etched among the dead souls—
Those who could
Not hear,
Not speak,
Not see.
Under autumn's pale shadows,
I, too,
Lay scattered like dry leaves—
Where conscience slumbered deep
And reason's sky was sealed.
In those halls
Where ignorance
Strangled nascent thought,
Where apathy wore its crown,
And indifference bolted every door.

Then...
A bringer of light
Brushed the dust from my dreams,
Held a lamp within the void,
Gave wings to captive thought,
Poured awakening's draught
Into my sleeping soul.
Then, leaning on
The strength that once reproached me,
I broke the chains
That barred my way at every turn.
And those petrifying fears
That swelled to monstrous shapes
Before the unveiled truth—
Now are but phantoms
Dissolving in the dawn.
My heart's pulse,
Which faltered with regret
For youth misspent—
Now finds its quiet haven
In the arms of peace.
Those brittle, corrupted,
Self-woven thoughts,
Barren of wisdom—
No longer claim my mind.

I am free—
From every borrowed thought,
From every honeyed lie,
And every notion
Worn by other minds,
Grafted onto mine.