A Confession To The Unnamed Poem by Mystic Qalandar

How shall I speak this?
You alone are the Real among the multitude's dream—
the One unveiled, forever unveiling,
the sole presence threading both the abyss of midnight
and the wound of noon.
Yet even that is not the whole.

I see you as you are:
never still, never tethered to a single throne,
never sealed within a single work.
You move—
I follow.
At every breath you beget a new act of your will—
I follow.
You will never come to rest in any place my hands might cup.

This was never your absence.
You are ever-present, though you pass through all form.
It took a silence at the world's floor to understand:
you are not a being at all.
You are the beyond that dwells within—
the secret no name can hold,
the quiet warmth without a hearth,
a tenderness I have only now learned to call yours.

And then I knew—
you were a pause.
A pause for me—
the very stillness that kept me from seeking you
in any shape, any sign, any syllable.
And I understood this
too late.

For the One who never left,
and whom I only met
when I stopped looking.

— MyKoul