Transcendental Melody Poem by Mystic Qalandar

In the in‑between—
a silent fissure.
From where, from where
does that voice arise?

Word, deed, heartbeat, shadow—
all dissolve,
melting
into echo,
into a divine melody.

Being is born—
yet no form endures the storm.
The voice that slips past lips
turns back,
returns
to the heart's unknown hour—
a sacred, unfamiliar poison.

Every touched particle
takes on a foreign hue.
All things rest
within the rhythm of silence—
an unseen assembly:
foundations, walls,
salty dust asleep in the sky,
bathed in the eternal lamp.

History unfolds
on color-shifting pages—
a fragile truth,
a circle of denial
that, in absence's fog,
shapes itself into nothing,
then melts into light.

And this is the light—
how many seekers
have melted here?
The blood of perception
scatters
within the lamp's ring,
yet the ray endures—
bare, sacred, infinite.

Existence flows
like liquid
through the cosmic beam.
Transience, dust, idols broken—
all return to silent earth,
all flowing
into the divine melody.

The voice of origin—
a silent vibration
beyond the edge of death.
Victory. Triumph.
The trembling rim of meaning.

The end of history—
shadows of disciples,
reflections of transcendence,
still drifting—
beyond language, beyond place—
softly,
a dim, divine melody
along the shores of endless light.

—November,13,2025