From Ego To Enlightenment Poem by Mystic Qalandar

I found myself in a desert of nothing—
every grain was thirsty, every shadow restless.
I wandered through oceans of relentless storms.
I was the boat,
the sail,
the sailor—
but no star rose to guide my way.
On every side, the vipers of self,
wrapped in venomous, deceitful smiles.
The fragrance of my soul—unknown to them.
The lamp of my heart—a threat.
In the twisted maze of the commanding self,
I was the traveler, the path, the lostness.
Then—
a flash!
The whip of the reproaching self!
Ah, what a sweet wound it strikes—
a wound that whispers the way back home.
It cried:
'O wanderer of heedlessness!
Return to your root.
Remember your eternal covenant.
I walk beside you—shoulder to shoulder.'
And I, who once dismissed its plea,
now count every strike as grace—
lifting my eyes toward the Truth.
I curse the wicked self—
for in its absence,
my soul's garden blooms in spring.
And in its presence,
life becomes autumn, a curse—
a slow, poisoned death
that devours everything.