The Watcher Inside Poem by Mystic Qalandar

I stand before the mirror, gazing in—
Who is it, I ask, that makes my light begin?
You bear no brightness born of your own flame,
But cast back rays that stillness dares to claim,
And guide the Watcher, silent, deep within.

In morning's gold and midnight's hush repose,
His gaze endures—the vigil never goes.
Not lit by sun, nor moon that softly gleams,
But by the flame beyond all time and dreams—
The fire of love that silently bestows.

I hear His whisper—soft, and clear, and deep,
A voice like starlight only I may keep.
With every breath, a secret current flows,
Like petals blooming where the new dawn grows.
O cosmic blaze that scripts the endless sky,
You leave Your embers glowing in my eye—

A warmth that melts the hardest, coldest stone,
A sacred light my innermost has known.
Your words descend like healing, silver rain,
A quiet grace that washes out all pain.
Each note a thread, each phrase a living flame—
A song of love no mortal hand could name.

As Your eternal melody surrounds,
The veils of falsehood fall without a sound.
O radiant sun that in my breast does rest,
You turn my gaze to truths once unexpressed.

Each moment swells, each heartbeat grows its wings—
A world reborn on wonder's hallowed springs.
You paint my dreams in deep, eternal blue—
A dawn of awe forever breaking through.
Yes, it is You who grants my spirit sight:

The soul in all things—wild and fierce with light—
Forever glowing, fierce and undenied,
Forever beautiful, forever divine.