Don't ask my name, nor where I dwell, Nor trace the roots from which I fell. Let silence cradle what you seek— My voice alone is what shall speak. I am no place, no face, no time, A riddle wrapped in quiet rhyme. Not flesh, not stone, not history— I am the echo. I am Mystery. 𝔑𝔦𝔨𝔞 𝔖𝔥𝔞𝔨𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔪𝔦, the Jeanne d'Arc of Iran.