The Pen—tongue Of Consciousness Poem by Mystic Qalandar

The pen holds might beyond the sword,
A resonance deeper than the tongue—
For the tongue stumbles upon the surface of things,
And cannot sound the depths the heart has sealed.

This pen is the instrument of silent knowing,
The scribe of the unuttered Word—
Flowing beneath all language,
Resting in the marrow of silence.

It is a key, finely wrought,
Turning the lock of every sealed door,
Solving riddles written in shadow,
Bridging the abyss where understanding sleeps.

Here, there is no conflict.
I become the very peace
When I cease to resist what is,
And behold its unfolding form.

In surrender to the immutable,
A quiet efflorescence blooms within.
When I move in the sphere of my power,
It is with the surety of a guided hand,
A whisper, almost breath.

I walk this path with open hands,
Knowing myself to be upheld.
Every inscribed word carries resonance,
Every thought, a stilled pool reflecting the infinite.

I am led. I am guided.
I am the pen, the key, the vessel of the Word—
A single current in the stillness of the Source,
Present here, at the axis of eternity.

—October,18,2025