The Road Of Alast Poem by Mystic Qalandar

We are but faces in the crowd,
silent—
yet seeing, yet hearing.
Our hearts beat in the hush,
striking against one another
like hidden strings of a celestial lute,
weaving a secret symphony,
the remembered song of Alast.
I listen,
until its murmur unfolds the pattern
that tells me something of everything.

I rise, awakened, illumined,
to gather the pearls of verse
that descend through silence—
pearls I am permitted to hold,
for I breathe in the breath of the divine.

Ecstasy lifts me,
for within I behold
the essential self that beholds me—
not other, but the true self—
a watcher beyond the veil,
gazing as the moon gazes,
casting light upon wanderers
crossing a night-bound desert.

How long, O soul,
must I walk
through deserts,
through dark and measureless nights?

The replies come,
as fleeting, yet as binding,
as the vows I whisper to my own heart.
For in the covenant of love,
every road leads to its ending,
and the lover cannot cease his steps,
even when he knows not
where the journey culminates.

Thus I walk still—
upon love's endless road,
barefoot on fractured stones,
dreaming that one day
these jagged shards
shall turn to softness—
like the wool of pashmeen
beneath my weary feet.

—September 4,2025