In The Silence Poem by Mystic Qalandar

When the flickering lamp-flame sways
to the tide of my own breath,
I hear—
a discourse past the clutter of words,
a meaning, whole and vast.

No dread, no portent—
only a tender admonition,
an awareness, newly woken,
that turns the dark
into its own luminous source.

The night is not opposed to me;
its arms, too, hold me close—
here where the Ultimate Truth resides,
woven into my pulse,
rooted in my quiet,
speaking from the depths.

This is no emptiness—
this is a Presence.

The night unfolds not as a barrier,
but as a threshold without end,
where the hidden spring of Truth runs clear.

I thirst for light;
He quenches me with a tranquil hand—
a light that does not burn,
but clarifies, sustains,
a silent radiance.

My Beloved reveals:
to see
is possible without eyes;
to feel is vision.
to be silent is to behold.

Thus I understand:
whether in day's bright script
or night's unending shadow,
His Presence holds the same.

His wisdom moves in me,
a constant stream
between the waking and the dream,
the seen and the unseen.

And still—
I hear.

—September 2é,2025