Eternal Sojourn Poem by Mystic Qalandar

From before time, on a shoreless sea,
I pulse—arriving, leaving—
wrapped in life's gentle veil.
Coming, going, again, again,
a breath in the Beloved's flute,
fooled by time's clever game.

Yet deep within, untouched by turning worlds,
I rest in the storm's silent core,
a fixed star in the soul's long night,
unmoved by dawn or endless dark.
No wave disturbs this quiet throne;
in the heart's hidden chamber, I abide—
watching life's flickering masquerade,
eternal, entire, alone.

Ages in this mirror-world—
a wayside halt, no more—
where shadows sway from birth to death,
the seeker chasing his own face.
Wayfarers of dust and dream
tread the silk road in disguise;
but I, the roadless wanderer,
remain, sipping the wine of return.

I do not cross these fragile veils;
alone, I walk hell's fire and heaven's bloom—
twin flames of the same One.
Fires that melt the false self down,
gardens where thorns embrace the rose.
In the forge, I am gold refined;
in the flower, a fading scent.

Through seven skies and depths unnamed,
I trace love's labyrinthine way,
polishing mirrors until the Face appears—
no east, no west, no I, no thou.
The moth still circles, never done;
wings burn, rise again without wings.
Each departure finds a deeper home,
each veil torn reveals another.

Undone, yet never ending—
the Witness, ever here,
behind the scene, before the stage.
In every atom's whirl, in thunderous silence,
the Beloved laughs inside this mask.
No arrival—only journey:
the sea, the shore, the pulse,
forever mine.

—January, 30,2026