The Indivisible Secret Poem by Mystic Qalandar

Gnostic, agnostic, existential, faithful—
or doubt's wandering pilgrim—
your will:
claim a creed from blood, discard it,
or spin one fresh from silence's gale.
Every soul throbs
under a hidden call.

Drifting through form's mirage—
like Rumi's reed,
wailing for its withered reed-bed—
nameless fire hunts
the veiled spark.
Wahdat al-wujud's quiet pulse
beats beneath all that is.

Some ascend the Mountain of light.
Some trace eternity in faces myriad—
One's mirrors, as Ibn Arabi saw.
Some catch infinity
in dust-motes, dreams, the void.
Some ford negation's waste—
denial births unity.
Who dares judge the wayfarer
crossing another's gate of truth?

From everlasting, tongues uncounted speak:
scripture's page and thunder's roar,
math's weave, birds' hymn,
saints' sway,
name‑deniers' hush—
all fuse in one veiled tongue.

Circle's needles
pivot to the core.
Paths fork in shade,
yet one blueprint hides.
Every ache curves homeward.
Every wanderer recalls the dawn.

In prayer's threaded glow,
reason's keen blaze,
love's utter vanishing—
moth to flame—
grief's molten kiln,
beauty's blinding stare,
awe's rending weight—
each thread melts
into flawless Being.

Dusk: a woman lights
a lamp at her child's sleeping side.
Snow caps far roofs.
A man at the window—
rain drums the glass.
Infinity nears,
forms dissolve in vastness.
No vision falls.
No voice breaks.
Just rain, a dim room,
one quivering heart.

Door to door they roam,
hewn from lost signs and ages:
earth‑star mirrors,
night‑garden pipes,
minaret winds,
hospice footfalls,
candles at raw stone—
each portal swings inward
to Unity's boundless fane,
where known and knower
merge as one—
salt sea‑bound,
streams in ocean's whole.

There, the heart's secret alcove:
shapes yield to shapelessness.
Names steam like dew.
Essence bares itself—
Being's radiant form,
each veil Truth's face.

The pilgrim spies
the indivisible mystery:
no realm past star‑thrones,
but existence's living breath—
beyond‑unity surges every shroud,
near‑pulse
linking moth‑wing to cosmic spin,
lover's gasp to doubter's quiet,
loaf on a still board,
an elder creasing the final note to One.

Next room: a child laughs.
A kettle sings for tea.
A train slices night—
veils ripped by Unity's gleam.

No rift endures.
Seeker meets Sought.
Path is arrival.
Exile's homecoming
threads each stride to endless meet.

Spare the pilgrim your alien gaze,
scorn not rites beyond your kin—
under faith's masks, denial's ash,
endless Light streams,
hunting its transcendent Self
in every life.

Last veil falls—
sheerest deceit—
vortex of Truth unfolds:
every trail—holy, cracked, aglow, lost—
arcs from manifold mirrors,
names unbound return
to the indivisible Secret,
all things' core—
rays from Forever,
of partless Unity.

— MyKoul