Thus I Hide My Spirit Poem by Mystic Qalandar

I lean inward,
into the shadowed sanctum of my soul—
stifled by the stale breath of closed chambers,
within a realm where instruments of night resound,
and dazzling veils of deception scatter
like smoke in a hidden wind.

I wash in the buried sun within,
its radiance my ablution,
its fire my prayer—
each drop a luminous abyss
into which I dissolve,
speaking in the tongue
of breathless silence.

From that furnace of light
my being is rekindled,
searing on the fragile parchment of heart
symbols no reason may decipher,
etched in the fire of hidden suns,
mysteries unspun by thought.

The weaver of self finds no loom here,
for illusion's threads unravel in stillness.
I turn from the half-light of fractured reason—
its shadow falls against
the unveiled Face of the Real.

So I enshrine the secrets
of my inward realm—
unseen, unread, untouched.
No eye may open
the closed script of the Heart's Book:
Who whispers me into form?
Through what hand was I drawn?
From which source did I rise?
Toward what silence do I walk?
And these seeds of hope within me—
who carved their shape?

These are treasures,
واللهُ أعلم—
(God knows the best)
my gnosis, my faith,
my burning silence,
the whispers of Truth.
I fold them deeper
into the chamber of the heart—
for their unveiling was only for me.

If any soul should hear this voice,
he will be rare,
a solitary witness.
The rest will scorn it as trickery,
mock the oneness of my song,
laugh beneath the weight of silence.
They twist with guile,
stain the Name,
strike with spite.

Such hatred rends the search for peace,
leaving wounds of bitter words,
scars that seep into memory.

Thus I hide my spirit
where silence first awoke,
to guard the vow of origin,
the covenant of forever—
the promise before,
the promise without end.

—September 17,2025