Man, The Light Of The Truth Poem by Mystic Qalandar

In every human heart,
a hunger stirs for divine Light.
One pulse—only one—
echoes in the chambers within,
where no stranger's voice
can ever call.

Here, the demon-ego's laughter
dissolves into nothing,
and reason's small whispers
grow quiet—
no walls are raised,
no barriers endure.

Yet even as the world weaves
its vast, menacing net,
a web of restless desires
where shadows dance
and fear makes its home,
the silent pulse within
persists, untouched.

To walk such roads
is to descend into hell's mouth,
to the darkest end of life's night.

When the speaker falls silent,
when no ear listens,
no eye perceives—
within you abides a silent guardian.

To find Him,
to entwine your soul with Him,
to tend to Him with care—
this is your true self,
the breath once given
outside of time, beyond all space.

It is your divine signature,
the mark of your birthright.

Lose harmony with that essence—
and loneliness of a sacred kind
devours the heart;
Light vanishes, silence shatters,
awakening slips away.

To be torn from your origin
is to be anchorless in tempests,
friendless in confidences,
empty-handed in the storm.

What remains then but
fear born of separation,
a pale and formless frost
that ravages the soul—
trembling, exhausted, abandoned
in the wilderness of self?

But once I touch the essence again,
I behold the world reborn:
a radiant tapestry unfolding,
threads of Light, colors interwoven—
a vision of joy.

No longer broken,
adrift in outer night.
No longer a wandering fragment,
unmoored, without a home.

Now I see the Truth
not through alien eyes,
but through the gaze of
the very breath
the Truth once gifted me.

I walk even the crooked paths,
unafraid, open, serene.

I am no one—
yet I am endless Light.
And the Light of the Real
descends into me,
settles deep into
the crown of my being.

Every breath, every glance,
every trembling moment
brims with Light.

—September 4,2025