The Station Of Wonder Poem by Mystic Qalandar

This is the station of wonder—
to step from yourself
is a journey of no return.
To touch the ember of the deep,
to feel its quiet heat hum beneath your ribs,
and slip back unscathed—
the heart is not made for such a thing.

This is the road of self-unveiling—
where the inner world, once descended,
enters the heart
and never rises again.
That breath of dissolution—
the "I" undone,
the eyes that drink the unseen river,
beyond all veils.

In the perfume of quiet,
unseen blossoms unfurl;
their petals tremble with a secret light,
the whisper of the Real
falls short of the tongue.
The world—hollow streets,
a dream passing through an hour.
The heart may linger,
yet finds no soil to root.

Foreground—illusion;
background—
a magic woven of luminous threads;
the ancient reflection
that never dims,
shimmering beneath the surface of all things.

With maps in hand,
we roam from town to town,
yet the tale beyond the journey
remains untold.
Lost in veils of meaning,
we search and wander—
our eyes, no matter how they strain,
cannot turn back.

Life—
one whole, yet always parted;
a single breath—
where, in the mirror of unity,
no separate image lives.

When the knots loosen,
when the mirages break,
the burden of unknowing
grows too heavy to bear.
At the threshold of revelation—
a longing, a weight;
light spills over,
yet the veils hold,
folding inward like silent wings.

A farewell of lanterns,
a moment of departure—
the light moves on,
beyond all grasp.
People fade to silhouettes,
and though we walk beside it,
we never truly arrive.

— November,6,2025