The Flame Of Time Poem by Mystic Qalandar

Alone, I walk the endless road of time,
unbound from beginnings,
untouched by endings,
unmoved by fleeting joys,
unscarred by passing sorrows,
unswayed by salvation's mirage.

I drift, a nameless pilgrim,
upon a river without shores,
where each moment rises and dissolves—
a breath of foam upon eternity's sea.

Then the veil shatters;
purpose blazes—a secret star,
kindling in the hollow of midnight.
Truth ignites within my breath:
I am no longer the wanderer,
but the silence of the road,
not the hour,
but the wheel that turns all hours.

I pulse through galaxies,
the hidden beat of circling moons,
the breath between the birth of suns
and their return to silence.
I am seed and harvest,
ebb and endless tide,
the spiral of returning stars.

All orbits turn within me,
and I within them.
I am the flame of time,
and time is my shadow.
Know this paradox,
and you know yourself.

Curse not the hours
that fade and climb,
for I am rhythm,
the pulse of time.
Night and dawn
in my hand reside—
all flow, all stillness,
in me abide.

—September 8,2025