Journey Of Being Poem by Mystic Qalandar

I

I rose from the shackle of nāsūt's frame—
from the noise of wanting,
from the dark script of time.

Every earthly face wore the dust of living.
The soul was helpless—
undone by the body's failing.

Then malakūt opened the cloak of silence.
Birds of light came down.
The heart found a song.

The inner self became the pure recitation of angels,
and every breath, shaped now like mercy,
turned into a prayer.

II

Then the horizon of jabarūt's majesty appeared.
In every atom, the perfection of the kingdom of death
made itself known.

I understood: power and sovereignty belong to Him alone—
this being, this fleeting, dying thing,
was only ever a trust.

Then came that wordless earth, lāhūt.
Words died. Silence became the name of God.
Every color of question and answer was erased.

The heart came to rest
in a shoreless sea of presence.

III

Then hāhūt's colorless vastness showed itself.
I did not find myself,
nor was I aware of being lost.

It was a secret beyond secret—
free of every relation, every chain,
and far from both.

Then the veil of hoot lifted,
and the cry of 'Hū' echoed.
From every direction, 'Hū' was the only speech.

There was no one seeing, and nothing seen—
only a truth,
only the searching of the Real for Itself.

IV

And at that farthest edge of hūt-al-hūt,
every color, every horizon
gathered into one point of unity.

No nāsūt, no malakūt,
no lāhūt, no hāhūt—
only That which was first,
and is the last of all remaining.

V

But the journey did not end there.
That was not the whole of the self's perfection.

The command of the Lord came:
'Go back—
to the settlement of nāsūt,
to the wronged, the lonely, the broken-hearted,
in that same kingdom
where people go hungry,
where children never stop weeping.
Become a lamp of hope
in the darkness of the grave.'

VI

I turned back toward nāsūt.
But I was no longer the one raised to the throne.

My hands are now service.
My eyes are now mercy.
Every word of mine is now a trace of love.

I understood:
the ascension of being is not to be lost in the heights.
To find God is not to be cut off from the world.

Coming down from the height,
I must live among people—
become an ordinary mercy,
not go to sleep in the dark.

My nāsūt is no longer what it once was;
it now shines, illumined by the Light of the Haq-ul-haq (the Truth of the Truth) .

—MyKoul