The Seeker And The True Master (A Socratic Dialogue) Poem by Mystic Qalandar

Seeker:
Why does this cry
cling to my throat—
a trembling stone
that will not fall?

True Master:
What fear is it
that silences your voice?
Or is it the stillness
waiting beyond the cry?

Seeker:
All I wish to say is:
Stay… stay,
a little longer.

True Master:
But why not ask—
why must one stay?
Can the company of others
ever give
what solitude holds?

Seeker:
I boast:
Alone I am strong,
I will endure.
Yet within my chest
still echoes the plea:
Stay.

True Master:
Why hide yourself
behind the veil of strength?
Does that armor guard you,
or only close
the truest door?

Seeker:
I say freedom
is a flight unbound.
Yet that flight
is desolate—
an empty stage
where, though wounded,
I still laugh.

True Master:
Is that your strength—
or your weariness?
What remains
when the mask is gone
and you stand bare,
as you are?

Seeker:
I fear
that if I show myself,
you will turn away,
you will leave.

True Master:
But do you know
what I see?
The mask itself?
Or the truth
that waits beneath?

Seeker:
That is why I am silent,
whispering within:
Stay… stay.
Is this a battle,
or can surrender
be love in another shape?

True Master:
And what is surrender?
Defeat…
or release?
Is it not the doorway
to wholeness?

Seeker:
To want—
and to be wanted—
once felt like weakness.
But perhaps this
is the highest grace.

True Master:
What if love
were never a war?
What if the heart's truth
were simply to say:
Stay—
and believe it?

Both:
Beyond the fear,
beyond the mask,
we find
what was always near:
that true surrender—
laying down the shields—
is the greatest victory.