That Whispered Name Poem by Mystic Qalandar

Even the ashes
whisper His name.
Whose name? you ask—
The One with no name,
yet the name engraved
in the depths of stone,
etched in the breath
of heaven and earth,
unceasingly, in ever-new ways,
uttering Kun! — Be, and it is.

It is the name of the One
whose dreams know no bounds,
whose silence
roars louder than thunder,
within the chambers
of His own vastness—
where I, too, hear His name.

This name touches the skies,
unlike those born
of lip and tongue and teeth.
It dances in the evening mist,
echoes in the smile of dawn;
the sun's warm light
is but a glimmer of His attributes.

No one can still it
save by His will alone—
even when He smiles
upon the stormy trials He sends.

Yet in the end,
none can claim
to know this name
as it deserves to be known;
one can only dream of it—
and every claim,
in the end, is only a dream.

The gnostics say:
Huwa Huwa — He is only He—
joyfully humming His name
from behind the veils.

O Great Name, O Name Supreme—
I shall write again
when You open my window.