The Wind Of The Unseen Sings Poem by Mystic Qalandar

The Wind Of The Unseen Sings*

O Beloved,
Let me never grow deaf
To the breath that chants within—
This wind of the Unseen,
Drifting from gardens beyond time
Into the orchard of my soul,
Its roots coiled
In the sacred depths of being.

Ah!
Were it not for this veil,
I would recall that realm
Where no name divides,
Where silence shimmers with light,
And the soul—
Tuned to the tide of Being—
Spins in love's whirl
To the honeyed refrains
Of heaven's unveiled beauty.

How could I ever forget
The bird that sings
On the golden thread of my essence?
Its cry
Is the covenant echoing still—
A vow that binds me
To the Hidden Giver,
To the rhythm
Of the Everlasting Pulse.

No—
This I cannot forget!
We are immersed
In divine rivers unseen,
Swaying gently
In the breath of mystery.
From the heart of the Eternal
We emerged—
Sparks of the sacred blaze,
Lit
By the hand that cannot be named.

And when this soul,
A mere moth of longing,
Ascends in daring flight
Toward the fire of the Real,
A circle of brilliance
Explodes—fearful, sublime—
And folds me into its embrace.

I fall back, trembling with awe:
Is not the human form
A chalice of the Sun?
Do we not carry
Its burning truth?
The heat
Hidden in our marrow,
The light
Sleeping in our blood,
Needing only a breath of remembrance
To awaken—
To become flame.