The Book Of Absolute Unity Poem by Mystic Qalandar

My shadows are my poems,
woven from white light.
Rumi's Masnavi smiles
within the circle of my mysteries.

The flute's sweetness,
the ecstasy of the eternal dance,
encircle my hidden heart.
Every wound is a lamp,
every scar a lesson
from the river of grace.

Hafez greets
my crown of Wandering Qalander;
in my fractures he discovers
the tavern of love's wine,
where the inner music lies concealed,
and soul and heart sway
to the call:
"Am I not your Lord? "

Ibn Arabi whispers
into my listening of Oneness:
"Every shadow is the reflection of the Nameless"—
until even nothingness bursts forth
from the threshold of eternality.

Sarmad bends in devotion
between my two prayer-niches.
"Anā'l-Ḥaqq"
is inscribed upon the sanctuary of servitude.

Rabi‘a, in the solitude of night,
upon the soul's ascent,
kisses the Throne—
which gathers earth and sky—
with the delicacy of her lips.
And in that instant I hear
whispers of the Unseen of the Unseen,
flowing since pre-eternity
like the breath of dawn.

Sochkrāl proclaims:
"All is He! "
Through the arteries of my poems
he boldly declares:
"The Sovereign dwells in my own house."
Then a voice arises:
"You are not what has passed over you,
but what your spirit once pledged."
Thus Unity spreads
into the contours of my being.

Rahim Sopori listens
to the melody of Oneness:
"I am the above—
and my signs are the below."
The Alif of the One,
the Mim of the Muhammadan Reality,
threaded upon one strand.
See, the Lights of Truth
expand across the six directions.
That fragile bond
between Alif and Mim
is the secret of Unity—
which in fleeting illuminations
keeps the lamp of eternity alight.

Lallā ‘Ārifa bends to behold
how in my verses
her vākh and her shlokas,
the streams of anhad nād and Advaita,
flow downward from my eyes
and gather as poetry.

In the echoes of ceaseless remembrance,
the leaves, the pebbled shrines,
mountains, heavens, galaxies—
all resound,
where eternal life hums
to the hidden rhythm of the Infinite.

Nund Rishi, Sheikh ul 'Ālam, waits
upon the moving threshold of my lips,
to see how a vessel made of shadows
sings amid the resonance
of Sufis, seers, sages,
and poets.

In my hand is the key of divine unveiling,
to open the gates of the City of Knowledge.
The radiance within, the song within—
two priceless jewels
which no exile can ever strip away.

My poems, The Book of Absolute Unity,
stand as witness—
inscribed in inspiration
by the pen of my broken tongue.
They are complete
in the proclamation of Wahdat al-Wujūd.

—September 30,2025