Confession: Whole Cannot Be Known Poem by Mystic Qalandar

Truth drifts like clouds across one vast sky—
countless patterns, yet a single expanse.
Each eye claims its form, declares it whole,
and names its fragment the eternal dance.
Like blind men clasping the elephant's frame—
one the trunk's sway, one the ear's broad fan,
one the leg's pillar—each swearing they've grasped
the beast entire from a partial span.
Only in surrender—confessing the veil
no mind can lift from the shrouded Whole—
do you touch truth's heart. Not ignorance' night,
but humble knowing: the limits of soul.
There ma‘rifah blooms, where certainty dawns
as knowing's own boundary, clearly seen.
Not empty hush, but awe's living silence—
a flower's stillness in the garden's green.

—January,28,2026