Before The Sea Poem by Mystic Qalandar

I.

I stand,
steady as gravity,
where every falling thing remembers
its first belonging.

The sea arrives,
bearing its ancient unrest.
Thunder kneels
before the unhurried tongue of waves,
and every crest,
having exhausted its desire to become,
returns to the nameless breast
from which it rose.

II.

What is required
to know the stillness
that neither arrives nor departs?

Storms keep their ancient covenant.
They break windows.
They scatter the architecture of certainty.
They speak the grammar of undoing.

Then rain—
the slow recollection of heaven within the earth.
Then the rainbow:
one light opening itself into seven names,
without ceasing to be one.

III.

Who hears the silent voice
hidden within the colors?
Who follows the invisible sun
that never entered the storm,
yet illumined every drop from within?

Trust is not constructed.
It dawns—
golden over broken roofs,
not because darkness failed,
but because light never departed
its own horizon.

IV.

Every howl conceals a whisper.
Every fracture reveals
what was never divided.

The fragrance of peace
does not arrive after the tempest.
It was already breathing
beneath the forgotten name of the wind.

Remain.
See with the patience of mountains,
with the listening of oceans,
with the eye that opens
only when seeing is surrendered.

V.

The sea is glass now—
not because the waves have died,
but because they have remembered their depth.

The wind folds itself
into a hymn too quiet for sound.

Here, morning waits
inside its unborn light.

VI.

Calm was never the opposite of the storm.
It was the depth the storm could never disturb.
It waited beneath every wave,
beneath every thunder,
beneath every color borrowed from one light,
beneath every name offered to the nameless.

And when, at last, we called it awakening,
it smiled—
for it had been the one holding us
before the sea,
before the sky,
before light remembered how to become
the world.

─MyKoul