The Call Of Your Calling Poem by Mystic Qalandar

The call—
a faint murmur,
a single note
hung on the horizon,
trembling,
weaving sweetly
through dawn's fabric.

It came—
quiet, unannounced,
no drum, no fanfare—
a melody thrumming
deep within;
heard only by me,
through heart's ear,
soul's eye.

Debits, credits,
losses, profits—
all faded away,
shadows melting
in first light's touch.

Through celestial voice,
through unstrung lute eyes,
it whispered:
"Come nearer…
Come nearer to me…"

Echoing
in the old room,
musk and radiant light—
as if Alast,
covenant of beginnings,
breathed new breath
into my soul's rhythm.

The call came.
The call came.

I rose—from death,
from silence, from dust—
alive in your voice,
the pulse of your light,
the song of your being.
I am alive—in you,
in the song,
in the eternal pulse.

—September 6,2025