I Have My Roots In The Eternal Poem by Mystic Qalandar

Why cling to the hem of Truth's unbending Hand?
He alone is refuge—Life no grave commands.
No doubt can shroud Him, nor belief contain;
Beyond near and far, He is—not thine, nor mine.

Still the primal Voice resounds through veiled air,
The hush of Kun fa-yakūn—and worlds appear.
From clay—salsālin kal-fakhkhār—I rose in form,
A garment of dust the Timeless chose to adorn.

The Nameless sealed my hidden name in Light,
Kept safe from the ravage of day and night.
I burn in Love—that ancient, deathless flame
Whose first bright spark once called forth my name.

Pure Light engulfs both vast and fleeting hour;
Time folds like shadow before its boundless power.
One Essence shimmers through each guise it wears—
The Many are mirrors of the One they declare.

Before the stars were cast or skies were spun,
An endless Sound had quietly begun;
It hums through being and unborn breath—
Through life concealed within what we call death.

My breath—a trace of Nafas al-Raḥmān—
Mercy unfolding since the world began;
Not chained by thought, nor governed by decree,
But breathed from Awe before all awe could be.

Love's candle melts the veils that shroud the eye;
Within the Cup pours Light that cannot die.
There, stripped of self, I came at last to see:
No other stood apart, alone, from Me.

Not that this dust became the Infinite Whole—
But wave at last knew Ocean as its soul.
No rift remained; no twain could now survive;
In Unity's deep sea, I woke—and was alive.

Upon this path all contraries grow still;
Fire turns to quiet, longing bends to will.
Grateful, I hold the Hand I once pursued—
The End I chased was what I had imbued.

I am not endless—He alone Is so;
Yet through His Being I endure and glow.
Eternal not by self, but by His role—
This borrowed Forever—this illumined soul.

—February,13,2026