The Tablet Of Presence Poem by Mystic Qalandar

Wandering, lost in wandering,
I lift my own veils,
and echoes keep descending,
descending upon the tablet of the heart—
those moments of tranquility,
those streams of joy
that have been flowing within me
from pre-eternity.

In the silent hour of morning,
I hear those whispers
that still echo in the corner of the soul—
the trembling shadows of epiphany,
and those golden dreams
that, like the light of stars,
shine upon the sky of the spirit—
not inscribed on the tablet of memory,
but on the tablet of Presence.

I pause,
touching those sacred signs
that were inscribed upon
the page of non-existence
in the hour of the Alast Covenant,
when there was neither name nor form,
only His knowledge.

Every secret, like a rare pearl,
was hidden in the mine of my inner being—
beneath heavy veils of the esoteric,
beyond the most hidden of the hidden—
but now the hour of manifestation has arrived.

I see that what I thought was my memory
was His memory;
what I knew as my voice was His call,
closer than the vein of the self,
calling out in silence.

Yet for this vision,
the heart must be without veil,
because when epiphany is unveiled,
the seer no longer remains,
and only the vision remains.

Standing at the edge of the inner world
to ponder whether I was worthy
of the risk of this vision.

I am no longer a stranger to myself—
I am the beginningless, endless I am.
This feeling
has made its dwelling in silent corners,
a presence
that can no longer be ignored.

—MyKoul