Hu, La Hu Poem by Mystic Qalandar

Listen, friend—
I called my Friend.
Not by name,
not by rite,
but only Hu—
the Hu hidden in me
before I was.

And every imagined form
packed its bags and vanished:
shadow, idol, dream, guess,
the mist of archetypes,
the mirrors of the Names,
the narrow bridge of imagination—
all lost their color
in a single flash:

Hu—La Hu.

Then His arms opened,
wider than space,
older than time,
without direction, without edge.

Light tore through the veils.
The river forgot its banks.
The point gathered the circle;
the circle opened within the point.

No east, no west,
no Throne, no dust,
no outward, no inward—
only the Encompassing
resting in the Centre,
and the Centre
spilling everywhere:

ocean of Ahadiyyah,
wave of Wahidiyyah.

And I, within that shoreless embrace,
did not drown.

No fear of fana,
no claim to baqa,
no prison of "I, "
no wall of "You."

I recognized myself—
a drop
in the ocean,
the ocean in the drop,
yet still asking the ocean
the secret of its thirst;

a candle
burning, not vanishing,
beholding its own face
in its own light.

Neither lost nor separate:
the same as in pre-eternity,
the same unto post-eternity—
a silent witness
to its own epiphany,
an honest mirror
of His boundless Face.

He sees Himself in me,
and I in Him.

Not He is I,
not I am He—
yet He is not other,
nor am I other.

Hu, La Hu.

Every epiphany is new,
yet in every epiphany
He is the Same.

Every moment,
a new creation.
Every breath,
a page from the Breath
of the Merciful.

And when I call,
"Friend! "

all forms vanish,
and only He remains—
neither far nor near,
neither La nor Hu—

and I, within His embrace,
know myself.

Lover, Beloved, and Love:
three colors
of a single mirror.

No veil.
No distance.

Only a Nameless Presence
within every name,
a Formless Face
within every form,

and an embrace
that is itself
my call.

Hu—La Hu.

—MyKoul