Echoes Of Alast Poem by Mystic Qalandar

They say a voice never truly dies—
its echo drifts forever,
like that first summons
before breath was given,
before dust was stirred.

Every soul stood waiting
at the edge of existence.
A question split the silence:
Alastu bi rabbikum—
Am I not your Lord?

And all together we cried—
Yes, indeed!
A single vow
that still trembles in creation,
still hums inside the marrow of time.

It left behind a seed of memory,
restless,
waking whenever longing stirs.

But now—
I wish those echoes would return my "Yes, "
not as hollow reverberations
from empty chambers,
but carrying the weight of the covenant
back into my heart.

Then I could walk behind them,
that ancient cry,
that vow sewn deep into my soul,
its light guiding me home—
to the place
where belonging first began.