Final Words: Before My Passing Poem by Mystic Qalandar

At my death,
by my grave,
place no stone, no name, no inscription—
names are only shadows that fade,
stones are burdens for the earth.

How strange, that heavy monument—
etched with symbols the soul cannot decipher,
bearing words that silence will never comprehend.
I am traveling toward a horizon
where letters dissolve,
and meaning becomes light.

While you, above the soil,
anchor my memory to rock,
I, beneath the earth,
will be free of language.
What have I to do with words
locked in granite?
I spoke in breaths
that live only in the pulse of the living.

The poetry I gave to time
was never meant for tongue or ear,
but to be absorbed, unseen, into the spirit.
All I wrote was inscribed not in ink,
but in the radiance of the soul—
etched upon the scrolls of silence,
signed in the name of Truth.

Such words ask for no grave, no date, no witness.
They pass from one heart
to become the quiet rhythm of another.

If you must find me,
look not to the dust.
Seek me in a moment of sincerity,
a selfless prayer,
or a single, silent tear.
I do not linger in life's debris,
but in the echoes of what was spoken,
enduring long after the speaker is gone.

That is all.
These are my final words.

—February,1,2026