We Are Free Birds Poem by Mystic Qalandar

We are birds, children of air,
wings fluent in the wind.
Our flight etches galaxies
across the sky.

The day lifts us.
We drift through clouds,
blue vastness gilded with gold,
each feather thrumming
with the sun's hymn.

Below, wolves leap,
eyes fixed on the moon,
their cries stitched with radiance
they cannot grasp.

We rise—not for hunt,
not for envy.
We rise in devotion,
to hold the sky within.

Our flight is prayer,
surrender to silence.
Quiet becomes companion;
freedom leans like dusk's lover.

The sky invites.
Its arms are wide, tender.
Gathered,
we are no longer separate
from all we touch.

In the dance of
wolves, waters, trees,
we are given ours:
to sing with wings,
to let the wind carry our hymn,
to dissolve into air
without being lost.

And so we rise, always rising—
not for conquest, not for glory,
but for the wonder of belonging
to something greater than longing.

—September 4,2025