United With The True Self Poem by Mystic Qalandar

The day stretches—
no dawn, no dusk,
only the ceaseless hum of time.
Yet I remember:
drawn from silence,
from the womb of nothingness,
where my false self did not exist.

There, in that unformed dark,
I was neither body nor breath—
only a pulse,
a whisper of 'I am the truth'.

Now the hours bleed into one,
a river without banks.
I ache—not for hands or lips,
but for Her,
the One never truly apart,
yet always just in veils,
as in the Haram.

They say love is a fire,
but mine is the ocean—
boundless, bottomless,
crushing its own depths into light.

A shadow falls today,
a hesitation in the air—
as if the world fears
what happens when I remember.

No matter.
There is no 'away, ' no 'lost.'
She is the secret my bones hum,
the fitrah etched in my spine,
sacred as the Kaaba's shadow,
veiled only so I may yearn.

So I turn inward,
and pierced the silken veils—
and there:
She is.

No metaphor, no mirage—
Eye to eye.
Heart to heart.
No illusion of separation:
Were we ever two?

Home is not a place
but the collapse of distance,
the gasp before the plunge.

We fall into each other,
not as lover and Beloved,
but as the sunlight knows the sun—
inevitable, already complete.

Now, the day dissolves.
Only We remain.