Divine Hymn Poem by Mystic Qalandar

We were born in the hush,
between will and creation's dawn,
in fields of unshadowed light—
timeless, spaceless, still.
There, sacred hands crowned us
with the decree: Be.
And so we became—shaped
in a form unseen,
even by angels.

Yet they bowed—
all but Iblis,
who burned with envy,
scorning the clay
that held the breath of God.

But we were dreamt for earth,
destined to sculpt its rhythm
with hands echoing our making.
What angels feared,
the Divine embraced:
the risk of freedom,
the sacred weight of knowing.

From the first startled cry
in the warm cavern of the womb
to the last thin, whispered breath,
we sing hymns of return,
bear the ancient trust,
unfold the story—
written in marrow and memory,
etched in our bones:
that we are both dust
and breath,
both darkness and light,
both exile and homecoming—
forever alive
to the Voice that said: Be.