"The Breath I Serve”

Not for applause, but for truth and right.

A wanderer of silence, a keeper of flame,

I enter this circle not seeking a name.

I come not as a master,

Nor seeker of gold or praise—

But as a servant of stillness,

Where breath meets the sun’s gaze.

In silence, I have wandered,

Through deserts of thought and flame,

Now I bow to the sacred rhythm,

Where all forms lose their name.

I carry no flag of ego,

Only dust from deeper lands,

Where hearts are the true temples,

And healing walks on hands.

Moringa in my pocket,

And wisdom in my tea

I stir the earth with kindness,

And pour peace quietly.

A Yogi, a barefoot whisper,

A student of the soul,

I’ve come to serve the moment,

Where the scattered become whole.

So greet me not with titles,

But with breath, and gaze, and ground

For I am Zahid, humble echo,

In this sacred yogic sound.

The Alchemy of the Divine Breath, By Zahid

They call me a ghost of shifting tides,

A man of phases where no shadow resides.

"How long," they ask, "will you wear this skin?"

Not knowing the fire that burns within.

​I looked at the trail of the men I have been,

The layers I’ve shed, the deaths I’ve seen.

I cannot count the shapes I’ve worn,

Or the number of times I’ve been reborn.

​Is this not the law? The Great Design?

Where the Lead of the soul becomes Divine.

The world cries "Mystic!" or "Alchemist’s art!"

But it’s simply the pulse of a changing heart.

​Life is the Forge; it never truly dies,

It only transforms before our very eyes.

As sand becomes crystal through heat and through pain,

As clouds become ice, then turn back into rain.

​Some phases crush us into a gem,

Rubies and Sapphires—the world praises them.

But I know the truth of the jewel’s deep glow:

They are but the tears of the furnace below.

​You speak of the Past, the Future, the Years,

A clock-work deception to quiet our fears.

But Time is a phantom, a ghost we’ve designed,

To tether the vastness of the Infinite Mind.

​There is no "Before," no "What is to be,"

Only this moment, an unchanging sea.

Whether years or minutes, the clock is a lie,

Underneath the illusion, the "Now" cannot die.

​We stretch out the moment, we call it a phase,

We hide in our memories, lost in a maze.

But stripped of the fantasy, the ego, the death,

All that remains is the One Divine Breath.

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