It Is Well Poem by Mystic Qalandar

It is well —
I shall not dissolve one day,
nor vanish beyond the veil.
Why cloak myself
in the illusion of death's silence?

Truth murmurs, beloved —
I do not await the grave's shadow,
nor lean upon eternal sleep.
For what is death
but another posture of being,
a turning of the inward gaze?

I shall move —
an endless breath,
a luminous tide,
a pulse of the Unmanifest
rippling through Its own dream.

Along the boundless path I drift —
without origin, without end —
woven of that still light
the cosmos breathes in secret.

Pause —
for each step I dance
between unseen realms,
where Nonexistence whispers as Being's root,
and Being flares into Nonbeing's flame.

With every inhalation,
the mirror of the Real grows clear,
and the Name within all names
utters Itself through me.

Time will not claim me —
for I am its silent witness,
the hush before beginnings,
the afterglow beyond ends.

I am the eternal scent,
the secret wind,
the Self beholding Its own reflection
through the veils of existence —
ever dissolving, ever whole.

—November,13,2025