The Life After Death Poem by Mystic Qalandar

Life After Death*

Once I pass beyond this gate,
no longing will remain—
The grave, a silent island,
and I, last tenant
of a vessel torn, then drowned,
alone… utterly alone.

No dreams of grandeur shall arise;
no companion haunts that shore.
The walls will whisper back
how hollow I had grown,
how deeply I belonged to none.
I lived a lie—
now truth stands bare:
even in life,
man walks alone.

Birdsong will echo in the trees,
fields will bloom with grace—
and I shall sense it all unfold,
yet remain bound,
my body lost to dust,
my will asleep beneath the clay.

At the garden's gleaming door,
my eyes may pause—
but steps won't stir.
Around me,
a world of silence will expand,
more joyful,
more free
than this loud, restless land.

I will not crave the net,
nor ache for distant names—
for none remember me here;
all are busy
feeding the self,
playing the games,
mastering forgetfulness.

My grave—
no mirror, window,
face, or shadow,
no trace of the known—
just me,
alone with myself,
free from intrusion,
free at last.

No engines, no voices, no beasts—
only silence,
and me within it,
motionless and still,
as life walks on around me—
and I remain,
a quiet witness.

This is the life
where no thought,
no creed,
no crafted myth
presses on my soul—
no fear, no hate,
no dogma, no war.

Only I,
alive within the hush,
and maybe then—
for the very first time—
truly free.

Until—
a breath not mine ignites the dark,
a light stirs deep within the hush,
and I, reborn, no longer lost,
am gathered into love—
awake,
aware,
becoming what I truly was
on the Day of Last,
pure and unalloyed.