The Soul Speaks Poem by Mystic Qalandar

If we do not truly wish to know—
what Truth is,
and what we are to It—
then perhaps we were never listening at all.
For this yearning,
this sacred hunger,
is what makes us human in the deepest way.
Love is not merely a feeling—
it is a fire:
a fierce and holy blaze
that burns down false belief
and melts the idols we unknowingly worship.
Kindled by the flame of Oneness,
this love does not soothe—
it shatters.
It breaks every chain
and surges wildly
toward what is Real.
Until that bond is forged,
we wander—
lost in the deserts of self,
searching for shade
where none exists.
The only relief lies in the memory of That One,
whose absence leaves the soul restless.
Then why delay?
Why let the soul drown
in the clamor of ego and impulse?
Why strain to grasp Reality
with eyes that see only matter,
when Truth is known
only by the eyes of the spirit—
eyes that see beyond space,
beyond thought?
True love is no shallow thing.
It is the ancient song—
not written in ink,
but in the breath of the soul.
If your heart has not yet sung that hymn
to the Beloved,
then perhaps it is not yet love—
only desire
dressed in sacred robes.
But—
if the soul bows,
if it truly surrenders to Truth—
then all restlessness fades.
It remembers at last where it belongs—
not in the dust,
not among the stars,
not even in some distant heaven—
but in the arms of the One—
the only Reality
that ever was.