In Everything, That One Poem by Mystic Qalandar

In Everything, That One*

Is it snow—
spiraling down,
a soft breath curling
against the earth?
Or birds—
singing love-songs
into morning's trembling hush?

Are these green trees—
swaying in gentle communion
with the wind?
Or buds—
opening shyly,
smiling in their quiet bloom?

Perhaps the bears—
curled deep in winter's womb,
stretching in slow delight?
Or foxes—
slipping into dens,
silent, watchful, alive—
finding joy in stillness' scent.

Or is it that peace—
soft, soul-deep bliss
finding you, again and again,
without asking?

When bees hum honeyed secrets near,
when a butterfly rests on your wrist
then drifts toward blossoms—
and beneath the trees,
hidden in green folds,
little insects sing their unseen love—
sweet, safe,
never harming,
never seeking to be known—
only sharing love's melody
with anyone still enough to hear.

Is it the moon—
nameless, full of light,
offering joy in night's unlit hours?
Or stars—
casting ancient shimmer
into your open sky?
Or clouds—
sailing heavenward
to become your shelter—
not merely shading you,
but bringing rain,
drawn from distant seas,
pouring over you like mercy?

Isn't this life itself?
Every breath a story,
every leaf, every silence,
a whispered hint of more.
Everything—
a soul in form,
a tale unfolding.
And we—
passing through—
witness miracles
blooming all around.

This is the art
of the One Most Capable—
Master of wonder—
who shaped it all
for your eyes to see.

And if you look
with sight beyond seeing,
you'll behold the Creator
in every creation,
in every shining veil of light.

The One in all,
and all—
in That One.