Where lies the path through the veil of mist—
the way the eyes cannot see?
Unless the heart kindles a lamp of light,
how shall one walk beyond the fog of unknowing?
Let kneeling not be the mark of defeat,
but wonder that revives the soul—
a surrender before the Hidden Presence,
the breath poured into Adam's clay,
the sign inscribed on every living thing.
Roots draw deep from the unknowable earth,
crowns lift high into the boundless sky;
seeds of remembrance drink from the rain of mercy,
and in forgotten fields, the harvest stirs.
"Allah is the Light of the heavens and the earth."
By His lantern, the unseen is made plain;
inner lamps flare into radiance,
and all the shadows fall away.
Then the garden within begins to whisper:
beauty, passing, essence—
light and darkness parted clear,
dust and spirit set apart.
Here we stand,
now we rise—
called by the Divine command,
trusting the living flame within.
And we ask: Who are we before the Truth?
The answer blazes in the Book
and in the breast:
we are those awakened by the Light of Reality—
walkers upon the path to the Source,
the beginning that is also the end.
—October 6,2025
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem