Ecstasy—dance On Fire Poem by Mystic Qalandar

Ecstasy is not an emotion—
it is the heart's transfiguration,
the athanor of the soul set alight.
It is the sacred fever of longing
that burns all illusion to ash,
until the indwelling Spirit steps unveiled
into its own radiance.

This is the Great Work:
to burn without consuming,
to die while living,
that the Self be reborn
in the fire of its own undying truth.

It is the courage to hold fast
to the true self no sorrow can shatter;
to speak the silent knowing
etched into the bone of being;
to walk among shadows with head unbowed—
for the soul is the ancient scribe
of what the world has forgotten.
Within its memory lies the map of the invisible,
drawn before time learned the names of stars.

It is the music of eternity
coursing through mortal veins,
the pulse beneath every heartbeat,
the hidden concord binding atom to galaxy,
breath to breath.
It is the warmth of shared laughter,
the light upon every face—
not merely joy, but the quiet recognition of the One,
the Transcendent shining through the Immanent,
the Infinite gleaming within the countless forms
of the finite.

Behold, the world moves
within a symphony unseen:
neon streets shimmering like rainbows after rain,
crowded markets,
lovers held in a geometry of grace,
children radiant in their first astonishment,
the solitary wanderer beneath indifferent stars—
each a note in the same eternal music,
each dancing the measure of a rhythm
older than the stars themselves.
For nothing is outside the song;
even silence keeps its perfect measure.

It is the quiet flame
within the cavern of the heart,
whether one walks alone
or hand in hand with another.
It breathes peace,
laughs the laughter of the Infinite,
and trusts that the Transcendent One—
absolute Infinity, beyond limitation,
distinction, and comprehension—
unceasingly illumines the soul's most secret knowing,
where the human and the Divine
converse in silence without end.

It is Wisdom manifested as Love,
and Love made sovereign
by the Wisdom that longs to be poured forth.
Here the heart becomes a polished mirror,
forgetting it was ever separate
from the Light it reflects.
Knowledge ripens into wisdom;
wisdom flowers into love;
and the knower, the knowing, and the known
become a single radiance.
This is the peace
that neither thought nor language can divide.

This is the end of the terror of death—
for no funeral pyre can consume
what the Eternal Fire has awakened.
The body is but a garment;
the ashes, a quiet testimony
to what has been released.
Where Spirit has remembered itself,
nothing is lost—
only vision remains.

And so, forever shall we continue—
to dance upon the flames
that are the substance of our being,
to sing the silence
that is the womb of every sound,
to wander the living labyrinth,
only to discover the One Self
at its radiant center.

In Ecstasy.
In Light.
In Love.
Forever,
we dance on fire.

—MyKoul