Consciousness Descent Poem by Mystic Qalandar

Fastened
to the axis of becoming,
anchored to a center
that names and measures,
that holds us in form—
still, we are not condemned
to heaviness.

For gravity
is not an enemy,
but remembrance.
It gathers the wandered,
teaches matter
how to return.

Yet within the pull
there is an allowance:
a narrow door.
Through it,
awareness slips,
unburdened.

So we master
the subtler art—
attached, not owned;
belonging, yet unbound.

Like a star
that consents to its fall,
we enter descent
with open eyes.
In yielding,
direction clarifies.

What burns
is not the body,
but the question
woven through it.

Light ignites
only when something dares
to traverse loss
without resistance.

Here, existence
is more than endurance.
It becomes gesture,
revelation—
a brief syllable
the Infinite speaks
to hear itself.

Time kneels.
Meaning gathers.
The self sheds
its borrowed borders,
remembers its vastness.

This is no escape.
This is alignment.
Not ascension,
but conscious descent—
where spirit touches form
and does not forget.

In that consent,
that luminous surrender,
existence is enthroned:
not above gravity,
but at its very heart—
sovereign,
weight-bearing,
awake.

—January, 7,2026