The Unfolding Within Poem by Mystic Qalandar

It rains within, even as the sun
burns fierce upon the outer world,
and the soul, in its hushed dominion,
spins and sings—a silent, living swirl.

The heart, unburdened, soars without a sigh,
like a hare whose restless wandering's done,
returning to the wide and open sky,
where calm becomes a hymn, a single tone

resonant through every day and night.
No relics of old sorrow linger here,
no shadow etched in time to wound or blight—
the present stands, unclouded, bright and clear,

refusing every tether, holding fast
against the specters of what came before.
For even the longest, blackest night will pass,
yielding to dawn's light through an open door—

in laughter shared, in gentleness revealed,
in truths that root us, patient and unbent.
Then the soul unfolds, its hidden self unsealed,
stretching free, its weary burdens spent.

And love, though scarred, still dares to rise again,
gathering its scattered, radiant shards.
For we are everything beneath this endless span—
not broken, but made whole, enwoven with grace:

the sorrow and the hope, the whispered cries,
the sleepless nights, the dawn's soft, tender face.