The Inner Resurrection Poem by Mystic Qalandar

It is no dawn waiting beyond the hills,
but an eternal dawn—each breath
the pulse of its unseen light,
each heartbeat its silent call.

When the secret hour unveiled its face,
no thunder split the sky.
The tempest gathered softly
in the stillness of my own being.

What my hands once cast into the void
now returns to write upon my face.
Each breath, each fleeting thought,
inscribes the mirror of my soul.

When the night of forgetting drowned me
and my spirit's flame grew faint,
I cried, "Who will lift me from myself? "
Then my own tongue rose—a witness—
and the silence answered: "You."

Then morning broke—not upon the earth,
but along the horizon within.
A solitary ray of the inner sun
tore through the veils of shadow.
In that still hour, my face shone
as though the Beloved Himself
had taken His seat within my heart.

I am no longer hurried by recitation.
Every letter is a doorway,
every word a breathing truth.
My breast is the hidden vault;
my eyes, the ocean
where Truth beholds itself.

And this rising within never ends.
My deeds are both my Eden and my fire.
My heart is the plain of Judgment,
where all that was concealed becomes sight.
My soul, the paradise
I sought beyond the stars.

Whoever drinks from the well of the self
will behold the Face behind all form.
Whoever journeys inward
will awaken to the Real.

The Hour is not approaching—
it is here,
beneath this trembling breath.
Open the eyes of the heart,
and know:
To see your soul is to witness Him.

—November,27,2025