The Moving Stage Of Life Poem by Mystic Qalandar

Life's vast stage turns,
a blur before our weary eyes.
Some seize meaning in the fight's grim heat—
old lions gnashing their cages,
pain rising to beget more pain,
while freedom takes wing on defiant air.

Some see only futile struggle,
no solace promised at the road's harsh end,
just the crushing weight of unending hurt.
Others root themselves like beasts,
burrowing into clammy earth,
carving refuge from the lashing storm,
hunched beneath the sky's merciless gaze,
numb to wind's scourge, rain's fury,
the muffled hush of falling snow.

Others flee to softer shores,
seek out gentler breezes,
content with base hungers,
thirsts that swell and ebb,
adrift in ceaseless cycles
where night unravels into day,
dawn's flickering promise
fades before dusk can draw its line.

But night's false comfort thins
beneath morning's fractured glow.
Even as darkness recedes,
who can claim the beauty waiting,
concealed in the unrevealed,
where light and shadow merge—
profound, untouched, ablaze?

Life guards its core secrets:
deep, unchanging—
that calm at the vortex-eye
unyielding to rigid will.
Then the slumbering eye
snaps awake.
The blur dissolves.
Clarity blooms—
slow, sure, serene—
unfolding unending joy,
a vastness beyond dawn and dusk,
where light and dark
at last converge,
and one boundless stillness
deepens into forever,
filling all
the opened eye perceives.