In The Folds Of Thought Poem by Mystic Qalandar

Ever awake, ever aware,
I wander through the weaving
of endless thought—
dreams spun upon the loom
of space and time.

So much of thinking
is not of my own choosing;
I am but a vessel—
given to the pulse of neurons,
their silent fire shaping
what I call myself.

Yet who commands these neurons
to dance their hidden dance?
What unseen will breathes through them,
drawing thought to think itself
into being?

Perhaps I am nothing more
than a dream that dreams itself—
a flicker in the boundless mind
that believes it shall not fade.

Illusion, perhaps—
this notion of timelessness,
this faith in never vanishing.
And still, my neurons whisper on,
caught forever in the folds of thought,
revolving endlessly
through the spirals of space and time.

—October,20,2025