In A Quiet, Sacred Place Poem by Mystic Qalandar

In a quiet, sacred place,
where noise falls away,
souls—like falcons—
rest in the nearness of the Divine,
their hidden songs rising
into God's radiant Presence.

Ancestral voices move through the land,
not as echoes,
but as remembrance;
and where peace is sovereign,
violence and decay cannot remain.

The land is alive—
breathing wisdom,
veined with light.
Yet the human heart grows veiled,
its sight clouded.
From neglect,
ego takes root,
ignorance spreads,
and illusions bloom—
sweet in appearance,
bitter in their end.

Forms replace meaning.
False pleasures masquerade as guidance,
and the art of union is forgotten.
The soul grows weary,
thinned by distraction,
seduced by surface and shine.

Still—
no thorn can stop the sun.
Beneath every hardship,
seeds of truth sleep in silence.
The divine light waits,
unhurried,
for the moment of waking.

The veils lift,
not by force,
but by surrender.
God's nearness is felt
as breath within breath.
The soul rises from fear,
remembering its origin,
unbound,
soaring into eternal life
and living light.
Before this knowing,
darkness loosens its grip.

From the fractured world,
a sacred vow quietly forms:
guard wisdom,
tend the heart's eternal flame,
walk the path of love.
For true sovereignty
belongs neither to crowns nor stone—
it returns to hearts
set ablaze by God's Presence,
alive,
sovereign,
and whole.

—December,14,2025