At His Door, All Else Is Dust Poem by Mystic Qalandar

All praise is Allah's—
all praise, all praise—
He who breathes life into hearts that have died,
who calls us even from our deepest sleep.

Blessings and peace upon that Divine Beloved ﷺ,
whose way alone can mend the wounds within.

O hearts alive with burning questions—
these words are not for your ears alone,
but to crash against your hidden self.

This age starves for true hearts.
Many glimpse the Truth,
but few can stand firm in its fire.

We know—
yet rarely do we walk the knowing.
We dwell safe in illusion
until trial strikes like thunder.

O friends, learn to discern the worldly ones—
lest you vanish in their shadow.

The Impotent Nafs

Some avoid sin not by purity's flame,
but by weakness' chain—
the self still hungers,
only awaiting its moment.

O seeker, beware:
this is not restraint—
only borrowed time.

Grant your nafs delay,
and regret will devour you.

The Rebellious Worldling

Others arm the nafs with steel—
seeking oppression's throne,
chaos' crown,
fame's glitter,
gold's grasp.

They trade the heart away
and call it gain.

O listener, understand:
a bankrupt bargain—
the world's shine
is worthless at His door.

The World in Soft Raiment

Most difficult to flee are those
with calm faces,
dhikr upon their lips,
but the world coiled deep within the chest.

Worship turned jewel for display,
the Hereafter bartered like goods.

O kin of the heart!
This plague hides in shadow,
silently slaying the soul.

The True Path

No flight to mountains is required,
no outward divorce from the world—
One cure alone:
empty the heart for Allah, and Allah only.

The world in the hand? It serves.
The world in the heart? It rules.

A Final Cry
Tonight, in solitude—
interrogate your very core:
Do I live for Him,
or wield Him for me?
Truth in your reply
may turn this moment into rescue.

Grant us, O Allah,
that singular heart—
needy of none but You.
Āmīn. Āmīn. Āmīn.

—December,30,2025