The First Covenant Poem by Mystic Qalandar

My steps were never mine—
a breath divine,
an ancient call
set my soul adrift.

From the void's still womb
to the garden of names,
I walked—
obedient, unnamed—
into love's first dawn.

I crossed the veil of Nothingness
into the theatre of being.
An oath carved itself in me—
that Day of Alast,
not written in words
but in breath itself:

"Remember the Source
as you wander this realm.
You are Mine,
My eternal kin."

The voice fell like autumn leaves,
its hush feeding the wind:
Fall—so the green may rise.
Climb through seasons of trial
toward the Throne upon the Arsh.

Thus began the play of worlds.
Light wept in rapture,
faces shone as mirrors
to the Beloved's face.

But the clamor rose—
and I, unskilled in the dance,
grew lost in silk labyrinths,
blind beneath veils of forgetfulness.

I prayed to a distant sky,
not knowing
the Beloved was nearer
than vein to heart,
than light to eye.

Then grace rose—
moon on desert sand.
I woke reborn,
a spirit rekindled,
remembering the sun
from which I fell.

Love now enfolds the whole:
stone and sage,
wound and kiss—
each syllable
of the One eternal Word.

When the shadow-self stirs—
the restless nafs,
the hunger of dust—
the Sleeper within awakens.

The true self, enthroned,
breathes dawnlight,
dispels the fog,
guides me homeward,
unwavering,
drawn always North—
to the fire of Alast
that never dies.

— September 26,2025