In the serene gardens of the inner realm,
where every stone chants the rosary of patience,
I beheld my heart—
buried beneath the centuries' dust,
yet shimmering faintly
through the hush of forgotten storms,
rising from its hidden whirlwinds within.
The falling leaves did not weep;
they whispered hymns of return.
They fell—not in sorrow, but in surrender—
into the womb of earth's embrace,
planting horizons of awakening,
breathing the first fragrances of becoming.
And thus I saw my soul—
clothed in a tender light—
laying aside its veils of fear and distance,
flowing back to its luminous source,
drawn by that eternal whisper—
the echo of "Alastu bi Rabbikum."
No motion, no seeking—
only Love, silently unfolding.
Then silence gathered me—
a sanctuary where even shadows rest,
where time kneels before stillness,
where the wind returns,
carrying the memory of the primordial vow.
There, in the hush of remembrance,
I touched the pulse of Peace.
Holding the hand of Truth,
I vowed within:
never again to chase the mirage of self,
nor bow before the illusions of multiplicity,
nor mistake the shimmer of mind
for the Light of the Preserved Tablet.
When the call of "Alam Nashrah Laka Sadrak" arises,
I shall open the secret doors of the heart
and let the fire of the Real
bloom into its purest flame.
Each breath, each moment—
reborn in the radiance of remembrance—
became a vessel of that sacred light:
the first witness, the silent mother
of Love, Compassion, Mercy, Grace,
Forgiveness, and unending Guidance.
That same Light breathes softly
through every stone and leaf,
through every whispering breeze
that crosses the garden's soul.
Now I know—within the still chamber of being—
that time's weight, the world's resounding noise,
are but passing shadows
before a single moment of divine quietude.
With Love, I walk the eternal path of Oneness—
where every step kindles a lamp of unity,
each gaze becomes a prayer,
each touch—a remembrance.
And the whole garden sings
of Alast, of the Beloved Eternal,
of the secret silence
of the One True Light.
—October 6,2025
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem