Mosaic Of Inner Flame Poem by Mystic Qalandar

In the mosaic of silence, faith's tile gleams—
the truly religious do not roam
seeking God in distant, shadowed forms,
as though the Divine were elsewhere, unknown.

They pause. In stillness, something stirs:
faith begins not in temple stone,
nor in repeated words that fade and fall,
nor in paths worn blind by rote alone.

It begins within—the heart's untouched core.
What are rituals if spirit sleeps?
What sacred words but hollow echoes,
borrowed from another's fleeting keeps?

Without awareness, devotion fades—
a refuge turned away from truth.
Turn inward, not to judge or grasp,
but simply see what veils the view.

In seeing, meet what is—unmasked, alive:
greed that gathers, envy that compares,
ambition restless to arrive—
neither resisted nor excused in prayers.

Understand—and in that light, the false dissolves,
as night yields softly to the dawn.
This is true religion: illusion undone,
not the chase for the sacred, but freedom from its thrall.

As you change, the world reflects your art—
not separate, but woven breath to breath,
shaped by words, by images, by belief—
yet holding still a silent depth.

In that silence, responsibility wakes—
to see is freedom's first fierce spark.
To know yourself, the self remakes;
true spirituality lights the dark.

Not a borrowed flame, but an uncovered glow,
steadied by awareness, deepened in truth.
When truth is touched—even for a breath—
life is no longer followed… it simply is, as one.

— MyKoul