All Paths Fold Back Poem by Mystic Qalandar

To my heart, the bird's song comes—
Whispered tales of an ancient king,
Not bound to earth, but robed in eternal sky,
Where time unwinds
And the silent echoes of Alast
Weave the covenant of being.

This melody is no mere sound,
But the pulse beneath existence—
A subtle vibration tracing unseen lines,
Binding soul to source,
Form dissolving into formlessness,
Light threading through shadow's quiet corridors.

The rhyme of light unfolds
Like an obscure scroll of celestial law,
Inscribed within the gaze of the wanderer—
One who pierces illusion's veil
And drinks, wordless,
From the fountain of primordial knowing.

The rhythm moves through life's hidden frame—
A spiral dance of atom and star,
Where every note is a threshold
And every silence, a gate.

O heart, attend—
The song speaks of the first breath,
Before time was measured,
The promise whispered in Alast—
From you it rises,
To you it returns.

Here, the bird is messenger—
The king, the self awakened,
And the melody, the ineffable tongue
Of the One who dwells in all,
Yet belongs to none.

Listen—
The universe hums the secret Name,
And your heart, attuned,
Remembers:
All paths fold back to the Origin,
Each song a pale reflection
Of the Light that was
And ever will be.

—October,20,2025