A Living Rose: Hymn Of Soul Poem by Mystic Qalandar

She awakens where midnight breathes on dew,
soft radiance swirling through dusk's purple hue.
To some, a peril—her fragrant art,
yet she glimmers, unbowed, at sorrow's start.

A chalice of longing, brimming with night,
she sips from shadows, drinks honeyed light.
Petals unfold—secret verses unsaid,
wounds whisper blessings where old dreams bled.

She drifts beyond rules of the silent lawn,
to gardens forbidden, by moonbeams drawn.
Time loses meaning, suspended mid-air,
as her roots entwine with the hush of prayer.

The wind tells her legends in riddles of trust,
entwining sweet anguish with mystical lust.
Golden-eyed reverie, curious, apart,
her thorns guard the ache at the edge of the heart.

Let the world flash on, unmoved by the jest,
she cradles their emblems of dusk on her chest.
A contranym spirit—half-shadow, half-fire,
she courts the impossible: rapture, desire.

For else she would linger and endlessly pine,
between hope's pure tick and love's old chime—
a rose made immortal by longing divine,
dancing with time in enchanted design.

— October,28,2025