I Am A Poet Poem by Mystic Qalandar

I am a poet—
yet words turn away from me,
and the tongue falls silent
before what is born
deep within.

I remain immersed
in poems never written,
in the layered country
of imagination:

dreams,
feelings,
unseen landscapes,
and inspirations
words can only graze.

The moment light
descends into a word,
it grows dim.

I am that primordial self
who heard the question:

"Am I not your Lord? "

and answered:

"Yes."

Here,
the word becomes a veil
between the first Light
and the seeing heart.

So I sing with the birds.

In the cries of night insects
I hear an ancient song;
in the soft percussion of rain,
a music meant
for the ear of the soul.

The rain whispers—
and carries the heart away,

far beyond
where words are born.

I live with inspirations
that remain unspoken,
beneath skies
the outer eye cannot reach,

where the eye of the heart
opens into its own seeing.

A whole galaxy
resides within me,
yet I can shape
only one star
into words.

I am born of that nameless Light
which takes a form
and beholds itself.

I am a poet—
a madman,
an ecstatic dervish—

upon whom,
in some unknown hour
between sleep and waking,
wonders descend.

Yet I have no fitting words,
no dictionary
for that silent light.

So, at times,
a few broken words,
a few scattered lines,
find their way
onto paper—

and there,
among the fragments,
my silent poetry
finds a face.

I am a poet—
a translator of a Reality
no language can exhaust;

a custodian
of what feeling cannot contain;

a confidant of silence
where a thousand voices
lie hidden.

A dark light
dwells within me—

nameless,
formless,
restless—

longing to become
a mark,

to descend as writing
upon the leaf
you call paper.

Perhaps this is all poetry is:

the nameless
trying to become a word—

a prayer
without words,

rising from the heart
and returning
to the silence
from which it came.

I am a poet.

—MyKoul