Let You Remain A Mystery Poem by Dr Harish Yadav

You may ask me
to know you completely.
To name you.
To hold you.
To solve you
like a riddle
that was only made
to be finished.

But no—

Let you remain a mystery.

Let you remain
the unanswered call
that keeps the heart awake.
Let you remain
the half-lit sky
that makes the eyes look up.
Let you remain
the distance
that teaches desire
how to become devotion.

Let you remain a mystery.

For what is gained too quickly
is often lost too lightly.
What is touched too soon
too often forgets
how to tremble.

And what is fully possessed
sometimes stops being beautiful
the moment it stops being sought.

So no—
do not come to me
all at once.

Let you remain a mystery.

Is there not more music
in waiting
than in arrival?

Is there not more fire
in longing
than in possession?

Is there not more wonder
in the unopened flower
than in the hand
that says,
"I have it now"?

Tell me—

Have you never seen
a bud become holy
simply because
it had not yet bloomed?

Have you never seen
the sunrise
more beautiful
before it fully arrived?

Have you never loved
what was just beyond
the reach of certainty?

Let you remain a mystery.

You are more beautiful
because you are not finished.
More radiant
because you are not explained.
More alive
because you are still becoming.

You are not a fact.
You are a horizon.

You are not an answer.
You are the breath
before the answer.

You are not the end of desire.
You are the reason
desire learns to sing.

Let you remain a mystery.

Do you know
what happens
when every veil is lifted?

The heart grows full—
and then restless.

The secret is opened—
and then ordinary.

The room is entered—
and then left behind.

The soul,
unsatisfied by certainty,
goes wandering again
through the ruins of the known
looking for one more door
it cannot yet open.

That is how we are made.

Not merely to own,
but to yearn.
Not merely to arrive,
but to seek.
Not merely to understand,
but to stand in awe.

Let you remain a mystery.

Stay beyond my grasp
so that my spirit
does not fall asleep.

Stay just out of reach
so that imagination
keeps building kingdoms
out of your silence.

Stay unwritten
so poetry may continue.

Stay unnamed
so wonder may survive.

Stay unfinished
so the soul may keep
its wings.

Let you remain a mystery.

You are free
because no border can contain you.
You are eternal
because no clock can diminish you.
You are ageless
because the heart
does not count
the years of what it truly loves.

You belong
to no nation of certainty.
You kneel
before no empire of time.

You are older than memory,
younger than dawn,
wider than language,
deeper than thought.

Let you remain a mystery.

Ages will change.
Names will change.
Maps will change.
Faces will change.
Even love
will wear new clothes
in every century.

But mystery—

Mystery remains.

It survives every answer.
It escapes every definition.
It walks through every age
with a different face
and still
it cannot be captured.

Still—
it remains.

Let you remain a mystery.

And perhaps—
perhaps this ache
is not incompleteness.

Perhaps this hunger
is not emptiness.

Perhaps this waiting
is not weakness.

Perhaps this unfinishedness
is not loss.

Perhaps the longing
to become whole
is itself
a hidden wholeness.

Perhaps the distance
is the bridge.

Perhaps the search
is the finding.

Perhaps the unanswered prayer
is already
the beginning of grace.

Perhaps
the mystery
is not what keeps us
from love—

Perhaps
the mystery
is what keeps love
alive.

Let you remain a mystery.

So do not reveal
everything.

Do not surrender
every secret.

Do not become
so easy to know
that the heart
forgets how to wonder.

Stay like dawn—
arriving,
but never all at once.

Stay like fragrance—
felt,
but never fully held.

Stay like prayer—
close enough to touch the soul,
far enough
to keep it kneeling.

Stay like the sky—
open,
endless,
and never owned.

Let you remain a mystery.

For poets are born there.
For dreams are fed there.
For faith is tested there.
For beauty ripens there.
For longing becomes light there.

And I—
I will not break
what makes the spirit bloom.

I will not force open
what is holy in its silence.

I will not turn wonder
into possession
and call it love.

No—

I will stand
at the edge of your unknown
like a pilgrim
at the door of the infinite,

grateful
that some things
are meant
not to be owned,
but adored.

So remain—

the unopened flower,
the unending dawn,
the unfinished song,
the sacred distance,
the beautiful ache,
the eternal almost.

Remain
what makes the heart
begin again.

Remain
what makes the soul
look upward.

Remain
what keeps love
from becoming small.

Remain—

a mystery.

Let you remain a mystery.
Let you remain a mystery.
Let you remain…

a mystery.