The Unseen Sovereign Poem by Mystic Qalandar

Has mortal eye ever glimpsed him?
What gaze could ever trace his trail?
He unveils by his own decree,
crowns presence with radiant splendor,
arrayed in the mirror of his beauty.
Boundless, unbound,
he is both the light and its revelation.

The True King
seeks himself amid his own signs—
a hidden spring
locked in snow's profound silence,
captive in its own embrace.

He dwells where
words dissolve,
forms fade,
and no ear hears
his voiceless summons.

Solitary—
no comrade, no companion—
yet he casts shadows on an infinite crystal sea,
reigning over those shades alone,
over waves that swell in the mind's depths
and sink back into the source.

His essence wears no veil.
He is the unseen lens,
invisible,
yet the vision that beholds all.
From behind the curtain,
this Sultan holds sway.

In sacred stillness,
gates swing wide unbidden:
seeker and sought
breathe as one.

The mirror
plunges not beyond,
but inward.
No dwelling lingers,
no pane divides.

The Essence
knows itself
in ceaseless waves of its own being,
turns the world in a dream's embrace
and rebirths it from that very dream.

Here, frost and flood
are not adversaries—
twin names for one mystery.
Unity and multiplicity:
a single pulse of will.
Where does distinction dwell?

In slumber, he wakes;
in waking, he dreams.
No shroud endures
before the light of eternity.

Annihilation's chill
breaches not this vale of permanence.
No dawns, no dusks,
no turning wheel of night and day.

No "other" stirs—
only He.
The One,
the silent ascent of every soul,
who wears no mask,
yet stands revealed
in every instant,
every atom.

—January,1,2026