In The Sanctuary Of Knowledge—the Mystic Poem by Mystic Qalandar

O my Lord—
You who nourish me
With a tenderness no hand can match,
Every drop of light within me—
Capability, insight,
Wisdom, subtle knowing—
Is drawn not from me,
But from Your sanctuary of knowledge
That dwells within my heart.

There, in that hallowed inner temple,
One Teacher abides:
You—only You—nothing else, no other.
Not born of my will,
But placed there
By Your Mercy before my birth.

Yet I wandered—
Far, far from that radiant sanctum—
And enrolled in the universities of Iblis,
Where shadows taught their sermons:
Worship of the world, of the self,
Of saints, graves, shrines, desire—
And of that ancient ruin: pride.
Darkness paraded as insight,
False light was veiled as truth.
And I, blind with cleverness,
Gave myself
To idols made of smoke.

But something stirred—
A longing that cannot be taught,
An ache to walk once more in light.
Fitrah rose from its slumber,
And Al-Haqq whispered through silence,
Calling me back.

Could I ever again forget
That echo of Alast?
That vow once spoken
Before the veil descended?

And perhaps that is why
The shadows no longer roar,
Why their fury has quieted—
Because I remembered.
And in remembering,
I sought aid in patience and prayer,
In humility and brokenness.
And I found my way
Back into the sanctuary.

Now—
I trust the Teacher,
I rest in the Shade.
What more is there to need?

Yes, I awaken
Always on the edge of ruin—
Just before the fall.
And each time I stray,
I pay in crimson currency.
But the eye of my heart
Read the warning
Etched on the invisible board.

And now I stand—
Once more
At that sacred threshold
Where the journey began,
And the eternal question was asked:
Alastu bi Rabbikum?
And I answered:
Balá.