My Murshid, My Shams Poem by Mystic Qalandar

O my beloved Murshid,
My dearest Baba Jaan—
This is no mere poem,
But remembrance coursing
Through the veins of my heart,
A sacred melody descending
Between the lover and the Lord—
As pure as the light
Of Surah An-Noor.

You were the first radiance—
In your dawn,
I saw the Light of all Lights unfold,
A single ray of Shams
That stirred Rumi's soul awake.

Your prayer—my earliest fortress,
A dome of the unseen,
Shielding me
From the whirlpool of self,
Turning the Qibla of my heart
Toward Truth.

These words I utter
Are not inked on paper—
They rise from the fire within,
Beads strung on my tears,
Secrets whispered in prostration.

This is the hymn
That sings in silence,
Yet echoes upon your lips.

O Baba Jaan,
You lit the sky within me,
Kindled certainty in my dust.
Your embrace—
My first firmament,
Where revelation breathed its fragrance.
Your gaze—
A single curl
Veiling the secret of the Lord.

Your guidance, your words—
Light torn from the veil of the unseen,
A smile like Shams,
That lured Rumi
Into eternal trance.

You are the balm for my restlessness,
The truth within my prayer,
The milestone of my prostration.

What I write—
These are not letters,
But lamps of my soul,
Lit by your grace.

The first Al-Hamd
Rose from your love.
Ar-Rahman's majesty, Ar-Rahim's beauty—
All revealed in your presence.

When I whisper Ih'dina,
My heart leans into your hand—
The hand I clasped
As the rope of Allah,
As Shams awakened
The voice of Truth in Rumi's core.

O Baba Jaan—
This surah of seeker and Lord
Is the Al-Fatiha of my book of gnosis—
The anthem of your spirit,
The vision born of your sight,
Now worn by my soul
As its prostration.