The City Of Knowing Poem by Mystic Qalandar

The road to the City of Divine Knowledge
has no gate.
It is nearer than breath,
closer than the jugular vein.

Countless paths spiral toward its light,
yet the swiftest descent is inward—
for the City is raised
in the heart that remembers.

Its walls are veils,
woven of shadow and forgetfulness.
The Prophet whispered:
Every rust has its polish;
the polish of the heart is remembrance.

So polish—
until the barriers grow thin,
until the streets of radiance
unfurl before you.

You wander alone
through its arches without time,
yet you are never alone—
for the Beloved declares:
When My servant draws near in love,
I am the ear with which he hears,
the eye with which he sees,
the hand with which he gives.

No threshold was ever barred.
No distance was ever real.
The wise have always known:
Who knows himself,
knows his Lord.

The City is your hidden sanctuary.
And the Way—
nothing other
than your own return.

—September 15,2025