Crow As The Hidden Murshid Poem by Mystic Qalandar

Take the crow as your murshid now,
As Dattatreya once embraced him;
A seer behind the unseen veil,
Upon whose wings the ciphers swim.

Behold his gait, the void now stirs,
Where thought is sharp and knowledge deep;
A mercy etched on the soul's own slate,
Where pearls of light from his feet may leap.

The cosmos is a silent rosary,
His trembling feathers rise in prayer;
Offer your palm, a vessel still,
To nourish what cannot rest there.

You'll be drawn into his silent pact,
His remembrance and his benediction;
Woven in twilight streams of ascent,
A whispered wing's holy diction.

On streets and roofs, beneath the boughs,
The mystic mendicant pulses still;
He teaches in a holy silence,
A recognition of the will.

For remembrance, cradled deep in love,
Becomes a ladder to the Beloved;
Listen—where black wings part the night,
The veil grows thin, by grace uncovered.

The world hums on in sacred beads,
Each offering a verse, a sign;
Each gaze a glimpse of what is hidden,
A truth that makes the divine align.

So learn from him, the fierce, loyal watcher,
The keeper of memory, steadfast and true;
The Unseen smiles on those who remember,
The Hidden is seen by the sight of the few.

Be still, and see the gift lies bare,
To receive it is the truest grace;
For remembrance is the only path,
And love, the secret way's embrace.

—September 24,2025