The Doors and the Book

 I asked the sky in silent thought,

“Is what I read in truth or not?”

The winds stood still, the silence deep,

And stirred the dreamer from her sleep.

Two doors of light began to part,

A trembling echo in my heart.

No sound, no cry, no earthly sound—

Just sacred stillness all around.

And then a book with glowing spine

Appeared before these eyes of mine.

It opened wide without a hand,

Its pages wrote what few understand.

No ink, no letters—just a flame,

Each line a whisper of Her name.

The truth I sought was not in voice,

But in the light, the soul, the choice.

And just as quick as it had come,

The doors then closed, the vision done.

But in that moment, clear and wide,

I felt Ma standing by my side.

She did not speak, she did not cry,

She only looked with timeless eye—

And in that gaze, I understood:

Not all that’s true is always good.

Some truths are veiled for sacred time,

Not meant for reason, not for rhyme.

But when the seeker walks with grace,

The doors will open, space by space.

- As Visualized Gulsha Begum