The Mountain Of Existence Poem by Mystic Qalandar

The mountain of existence—
a silent witness—
rises not apart,
but as the spine
of Being itself,
etched into the soul of sky.

At dawn, I awoke
as night's veil withdrew—
not outside me,
but from within.
In this high stillness—
a hermitage of stone and hush—
clouds moved past
like dervishes in tawaf,
brushing ledges
with breath of praise.

The morning breeze arrived—
soft as remembrance,
cool as the sigh
of the One breathing Itself.
It clothed the walls
in flowing silk,
whispered through the open door,
and stirred the incense
into spiraling hymns
of the eternal Name.

It touched the moss,
still bejeweled with dew,
and sang through cedar limbs,
through pine-sweet air—
a melody too subtle
for the tongue's claim,
yet each leaf,
each blade of grass,
replied in wordless assent.

From the stillness within,
the Seemurug emerged—
not from some other realm,
but from the veil of form,
its wings wide
as unveiled being,
brushing the heavens
with strokes of gold and flame.
It circled once—
a sign unto my soul—
then spread its plumes
and loosed a rain of gleaming beads,
each one chanting:
Hu... Hu... Hu...

The zikr rippled outward—
through tree and stone,
through root and wing,
yet in truth,
it rippled inward:
the mountain breathed,
and so did I.

Cloaked in light upon light,
fragrant with the musk
of primordial yearning,
echoing the harmonies
of unseen spheres—
not separate,
but refracted rays
of the One Light.

It spoke through silence,
through stillness so deep
that only the heart—
emptied of self,
cleansed of two-ness—
could hear its call:

'I was never other than you.
You only forgot.
Come home—
into the One who always is.'