Tawhid's Mirror Poem by Mystic Qalandar

Lost to my soul—
the constructed self aches,
not from absence,
but from all that must be unlearned:
the illusion of a second
that never was, yet binds.

Creation rests in tawhid's trust:
each rose, each lily blooms
as love's singular command.
Every blossom spends itself in mercy,
releasing its fragrance
without asking to remain.

I, too, have burned
through borrowed names.
Now I bloom with phoenix-tasted life,
freed from separation's fire.

Knowing now: rising is not departure,
but unveiling. In every station,
the dance of the One.

I consent to abide
wherever love manifests its form—
for through every form,
it is only the One that smiles.

No manifestation veils or summons
from the whole. Each is a mirror,
steadying my sight,
teaching me to love
the One in every revelation.

Thus, I subsist on the eternal mountain—
breathing as breath is given,
present as the gift
that never was two.

—January,6,2026