The Phoenix's Hum Poem by Mystic Qalandar

Still, it hums—
beneath the ash,
beneath the eons,
beneath the forgetting—
a low fire singing its one refrain.

Through every turning,
it gathers itself,
a whisper fraying the veil of silence,
a question haunting the quiet:

Who listens?
Who feels the hum arise
within their blood?
Who remembers the note
sung before the first dawn—
before the world was named?

It seeks a heart—
a trembling vessel—
whose rhythm falters, then aligns
with the deep, eternal pulse of Being.

And in the ripe and silent hour,
it answers—
not in words,
but in a wave that shakes the soul—
a resonance felt within the marrow.

Time may pool—hours or days—
until the listener breaks,
a dam of self giving way:
"I see. I hear it now.
All is One."

Then—a great silence.
A deeper stillness.
And with the dawn, an awakening—
unburdened,
breathing the single breath of the world.

Now, the hum is in all things—
the wind's low sigh,
the fire's quiet roar,
the pulse within the wrist—
the endless hum, the resonance of the One.

And softly, with no name to lose,
the self dissolves,
merging
into the eternal song.

Hu… Hu… Hu…

—November,4,2025