The Primal Light Poem by Mystic Qalandar

When chains of time and space are broke,
And motion in the sky grows still,
The paths where once bright stars spoke
Fall silent on the heavenly hill.
The seas that were a sign of naught
Pour through the windows of the Thought.

The secret, hidden through the ages past,
Is bared for every seeking eye;
Each speck of dust knows truth at last
And turns to its origin, free.
O Man, you have forgot your source,
Drawn from nothing's hollow force,

Led through each rank of life and light,
Set where Being's balances sway;
Yet you, estranged from your own sight,
Have wandered from the rightful way.
Each tremor, motion, thought, or word
Upon the Cosmos' Page is heard—

Woven into the world's own loom,
A record of the soul's own tale,
That shines through shadow, pierces gloom,
And knows you through each dark and pale—
That leads you, though you may not tell,
Near to the Lord you know so well.

Two paths unfold along Being's line:
One sings the tune of cosmic grace,
Where self and nature intertwine
In the Oneness of the Sacred Face.
The other, in each fleeting breath,
Witnesses against itself to death—

Hiding its dark behind the veil,
Condemned within its own tribunal,
Until all false distinctions fail
And wakes from what was once illusional.
Then is the heart bathed in a ray,
The soul finds peace and ends its stray.

Then remains only He—the Same,
Who was, and is, all things made clear,
Present in pulse, and star, and flame,
Encompassing each hope and fear:
The Master of the Realms above,
The Ruler of all truth and love,

The Beloved of each waiting heart,
The primal Light in which all start.

—November,9,2025