Between breathing and a breath, I string a silence,
Each inhale, a whisper of the Infinite.
Faults I sought in the beloved dissolved,
For the mirror reflects only what the eye holds.
Not in thunder, but in the hush of presence,
The unseen moves — quiet, vast, and whole.
Not sought in form, but known in essence,
The sacred reveals itself in stillness alone.
©Irfan Suhrawardy
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