Before The Sea Of Being Poem by Mystic Qalandar

Time has forgotten its own name.
I have lived so long
that no memory precedes me.
I carry something no spade can unearth—
treasures older than gold,
older than iron,
older than the hands
that first traced their shapes.

There was a time
when time had not yet learned to count itself,
when I drifted like a newborn child of eternity.
Then, upon the shore of the boundless Sea,
a call rang out—
where every soul swam like a fish
through shoreless waters,
learning the hidden lexicon of the universe,
Names so profound
that even the angels had not yet dreamed them.

Sometimes those moments awaken within me
the way dawn quietly unveils itself
through the curtain of sleep.
Then my ego whispers:
'Do not linger here.'
But how could I forget that silence
I shared with my Lord
before I wore this robe of dust?
That silence remains
the sweetest thing
I have ever known.

Now the years gather around me
like autumn leaves,
and every wind puts my heart to the test.
In the end, only one memory endures:

I love You.
Not for reward,
not for salvation,
not even for understanding—
I love You,
because to remember one's Source
is itself to be remembered,
through the breath
that the Sea has never ceased
breathing into me.

So now I long for one simple meeting—
over morning tea,
or beneath the shade of afternoon,
or at the evening table.
For when that day arrives,
the very first dawn will break again,
and the One who was before all beginnings
will become my eternal remembrance.

My true treasure is not Paradise—
my true treasure is Home.

Then I shall know
that Home was never lost;
it was only I
who wandered in the wilderness of 'I.'
The Sea never withdrew,
the shore never vanished—
it was only the traveler
who mistook his own shadow
for a guide upon the road.

—MyKoul