The Silent Home Poem by Mystic Qalandar

Even in our deepest hour,
Dreams become bridges of light,
carrying us beyond all form—
to gardens of dawn, where the soul bathes
in its eternal Source.

In the stillness of the night,
we wander as seekers, unbound.
The heart traces silent paths
across the fabric of Being—
each breath an echo
of the Peace from which we came.

Thoughts drift like mist over fields—
each whisper a thread
spun from the silence that holds all worlds.
In that calm, new realities awaken—
mirrors of eternity,
glistening beneath the world's noise.

A gentle stillness enfolds us,
tender as Spirit upon still waters.
Here, the self dissolves—
a petal opening to the Infinite,
released from the old dream
of time and separation.

The weight of day surrenders
to the soft embrace of dusk.
Love draws near—
a formless Presence blooming at sleep's edge,
gathering hope like dew
upon the fields of awakening.

Though unmoving,
the mind journeys inward,
returning to that innermost sanctuary—
the silent home
where Peace remembers Its Name,
and all returns:
whole, undivided, One.

— October,13,2025