A Single Endless Proof Poem by Mystic Qalandar

With brow smoothed
by the Unmoved Mover,
the geometry of grace
inscribed upon the waiting air,
I walk the path that unfolds
only as the sole meets the ground—
a scripture of becoming.

Providence is a vibration in the breath,
a subtle lift of the diaphragm
that is also the rising of the worlds.
The old weight—the name, the story, the wound—
dissolves into the solvent of pure attention.
It was only ever a density of forgotten light.

I stand in the citadel of stillness,
where listening wears no face,
and surrender is not a loss but a homecoming
to a knowing older than mind.
Here, even the ephemeral—
a berry's blush, a leaf's slow release—
becomes a sanctuary for the boundless,
a temporary temple for what has no walls.

In this unfolding,
the alchemy is complete:
the seer, the seeing, and the seen
are one liquid current.
There is no distance to the source,
for the source is pouring itself
through the vessel of the eye,
the cup of the hand,
the chalice of the moment.

It is the gentle turning—
the ouroboros of presence—
meeting its own infinity
in the falling petal,
the held breath,
the silence between two heartbeats—
a single, endless proof.

— November,2,2025