Before The First Breath Poem by Mystic Qalandar

I am not born into the corridor of hours,
nor sealed within the arithmetic of endings.
No cradle claims me, no grave awaits my forgetting—
I am the interval that never opened,
the silence before the first vibration.

No hunger names me heir,
no thirst carves paths within.
Milk and honey are dust-dreams;
wisdom, a ladder for climbers—
yet I am the sky that neither rises nor descends,
the knowing before knowledge stirs.

Unaged, I gather no seasons;
time rehearses not upon me.
I am the unmoving axis of becoming,
the stillness where all change is staged and undone.

No storm of feeling claims dominion,
no trembling spectrum stains my expanse.
Desire prowls not here like a restless wolf,
nor do I wander seeking another's face.

Relation mirrors the divided—
I am the Whole that casts no reflection.

Achievement dissolves before my gaze,
for there is nowhere to arrive.
Eros sleeps unroused in my depths;
no journey sketches distance across my being.

Worlds unfold like passing breath—
I remain the breathless witness.

No lineage flows through me,
no child extends my name.
Vineyards bloom and wither in form's fields—
I am the rootless ground of their arising.

My moment is no passing flame
but fire without duration:
an imperishable Now, unbroken,
where eternity stretches not, but simply is.

Unbegotten, unbegetting,
I am the secret that depends on nothing—
full without measure, silent without absence,
not void, but plenitude before division.

I am the hidden path and the walker dissolved,
the maqṣad and the way erased in union.
The One known through unknowing
breathes as my essence.

In that boundless intimacy—
I am not other.

—MyKoul