I Love The Rose Poem by Mystic Qalandar

How I love the rose—
silent hierophant of the hidden flame.
She bends in ancient sorrow, her thorns
coiled like exiled prayers seeking ascent.

A child, wandering the storm's unlit womb,
slept beneath her trembling hush
and dreamed of petals circling upward
from love's first, astonished dawn.

Bloom for me, keeper of lunar secrets,
as night loosens its silver pulse.
Let shadows braid their veils
to the hush-song of the invisible harp.

I walk within your fragrance—
half vision, half remembrance—
where beauty veils its star-bright face
from the cold edicts of descending time.

Beyond the threshold of scent,
I hear the eternal seed awakening:
each petal a cosmos widening in silence,
each sigh a vanishing universe of light.

O rose of the inward, unsetting sun,
I seek your crimson sanctum—
the wound where radiance kneels into prayer,
where the self dissolves its borrowed name.

Beneath your hallowed quiet, the soul unspools,
petal by trembling petal, into boundless breath.
What remains is neither fragrance nor flame,
but the stillness where God remembers His dreaming.

—November,8,2025