Prayer Beads Claim The Soul, But Poem by Mystic Qalandar

Prayer beads calm the soul, but—
they do not intercept missiles.
Lifted hands seek mercy, but—
they won't disable a drone.

Sacred is the prayer rug,
yet no sanctuary endures
where defense is a relic.

The enemy comes with stealth,
with silicon and swarm,
with budgets for ruin.
This is no hour for dreams
masquerading as strategy.

If Iran survives the fire ahead,
it will be a miracle—
but miracles are not infrastructure.

Self-defense is fitrah of every being.
So rise with reason, rise with rigor:
decipher the machines,
harden the networks,
command the sky.
Only then will your peace be a right—
not a plea,
but a force.