The Balanced Dwelling Poem by Mystic Qalandar

Most drape themselves in borrowed hues—
a bright cloak for the world to praise.
But inside, chambers lie in disarray:
the lamp unlit, the sanctuary silent.

Some paint the heart's interior,
inscribing zikr upon its walls,
listening for the ney's eternal song.
Yet they let the outer threshold crumble;
no passerby feels the warmth within.

But a few—only a few—
restore the entire dwelling:
the inner mihrab and the outer gate.
They clear the hidden spring,
that river of Kawthar,
and let it flow through every room—
veiled and revealed, a single reflection.

These souls walk in quiet radiance.
Their silence is a prayer,
their gesture a turning,
their presence the breath of eternity.
They are the balance of earth and sky,
the circle drawn whole.

In them, inside and outside meet.
Joy flows unborrowed and unbroken—
a wine without a vessel,
a flame without smoke.
It is the simple joy of being,
aligned with the rhythm of all things.

—September 11,2025