A whisper, a call from the divine place unknown,
It stirs the heart, as though by winds it’s blown,
A summons soft, yet piercing in its might,
To rouse the soul and guide it to the light.

"Rise, O’ humanity, from the dust of earth's domain,
You are but sparks, yet flames that break the chain,
Created to soar, to reach a station high,
Where time is naught, and space shall bid you fly."

The silent air bears witness to this creed,
A voice divine, a truth the soul does need,
Your being, formed of earth and stars combined,
Is called to seek the realms of the divine.

Let not the worldly chains your spirits bind,
For you are born with treasures yet unlined,
The heavens invite, and the path is clear,
To rise, O’ humanity, and leave behind your fear.

The call is soft, yet clearer than the day,
It bids you journey, to the heights away,
For you have wings within your hearts to fly,
And in your souls, eternity does lie.

Rise, O’ humanity, your purpose calls you nigh,
To reach the station where the angels sigh,
The whisper stirs, it calls you ever true,
For you are made of light, and born anew.

Listen—hear the whispers of the moon, bold and clear,
A voice from the depths of stillness, calling you near.
From the quiet twilight, where time holds its breath,
I rise, my soul ignited, shedding the veil of death.
From dust I rise, my spirit set ablaze with yearning,
To soar in realms where love’s eternal flame is burning.
In the depths of Being, where time and space are no more,
I seek the essence of forever, an unending shore.

I cast aside the chains of fleeting, worldly dream,
The false illusions that shimmer but vanish like a stream.
No longer do I hunger for crowns or hollow fame,
For I have found a fire that burns beyond all name.

Let not the chaos of the world distract your heart,
For it is but a fleeting storm that tears all things apart.
In the silence of the soul, where the self fades away,
I hear the voice of wisdom, calling me to stay.
Not in the pursuit of glory, nor the world’s fleeting grace,
But in the surrender of ego, I find my sacred place.

The path is not for the eyes, nor for the feet to tread,
But for the heart to listen, where no map is spread.
I rise, the tree of the vineyard; my ghazal is my fruit,
From my fruit, create the wine of the crimson root.

I carve no roads upon the earth, no trace for man to find,
But in the depths of my being, I leave the world behind.
Here, in the stillness, where all illusions cease,
I merge with the Infinite, and rest in boundless peace.

In the hush of your name, a storm is stilled,
A prayer, weightless as dusk fading to nothing.
You pour through my veins, dissolving into me,
A secret I've longed to keep.

Swallow me whole—consume my need,
Until silence is all, and our voices are gone.
I crave your stillness,
A balm that heals yet burns—
My anchor, though I float between breath and oblivion.

You cannot stay forever,
And I cannot breathe without you.
What is life but a flame too long held?
A flicker that burns and fades.