From Defeat To Victory Poem by Mystic Qalandar

I. The Ignition

Scorched in the furnace of my becoming,
this radiance erupting from the abyss of being—
it bears no name that passing light could claim;
it is the sovereign witness of that inward flame
which, like the Phoenix, from its own ash and bone
is resurrected, not as it was, but alone
and infinite, having devoured all that came before.

The eagles, perched with ancient confidence
upon my sill, those messengers of solar height,
attest to this aurora that has broken
not across the eastern rim of sky,
but in the catacombs of self,
where light remembers its primordial face.

II. The Gaze

I cast my vision outward
across the unbounded architecture of the heavens,
and behold—
the world, that long-imprisoned emanation,
emerges from its strata of obscurity
and enters the gyre of eternal radiance;
into the core of that gracious, silent,
and perpetually unfolding cosmos
where time dissolves like morning mist
before the altar of the infinite.

Those thorns
that were the signatures of wounding,
that venom
that once sang through my bloodstream
its dark genealogy,
those withered thickets
that stood as terror upon my pathways—
all have undergone transubstantiation
in the alchemy of vision.

Now in every quarter
countenances blaze with love's own fire,
and peace,
in its tongueless eloquence,
recites the forgotten canticle of existence
that echoes from before the first word
was spoken into the void.

III. The Throne Recollected

I remember that royal seat
that upheld my burdened frame,
that field suffused with luminance
that conferred nobility upon my wandering feet,
those sentinels of morning and evening
that in their silent vigil
pointed toward the axis of the true.

The deathless song of paradise's lost choristers
still vibrates through the firmament,
and a golden, imperishable sphere, once more,
from the depths of a translucent mirror,
gradually ascends
into the theater of the visible.

I perceive—
the entrance stands fully unbarred;
as though reality itself
had been awaiting my arrival
through epochs of forgetting,
through the long diaspora of souls.

IV. The Ascent

I rise toward the summit,
and my stillness
becomes a psalm of conquest
audible only to the awakened
who have traversed the valley of their own undoing.

Then all things
dissolve into one vast and luminous
presence—
one seamless garment of the real
without seam or shadow.

Even
that figure
whom once I named
my adversary,
my antagonist in the drama—
emerges as a visage of this very truth;
and I recognize
that he was the veiled guide of my pilgrimage,
that he it was who led me
through the labyrinth of opposition
to my authentic station,
where enemy and ally
are revealed as twin facets
of one undivided gem.

V. The Silence That Speaks

Then a profound hush descends;
such a hush
within whose secret core
the most resonant melodies
resound in perfect stillness—
the music of the spheres
played on the instrument of silence.

Night descends,
and my slumber
merges with the breathing of the cosmos,
that great systole and diastole
of being and nonbeing,
of manifestation and return.

For now
a new genesis
is drawing its inaugural breath—
not in time,
but as time's ground and dissolution.

VI. The Invitation

So come—
let every veil be torn asunder,
let every mystery be unveiled,
let the hieroglyphs of existence
yield their final cipher.

I have conquered not the kingdoms of the world,
nor the principalities of power,
but my own terror,
my own lacerations,
my own imagined defeat,
and the enchantment of my bounded self—
that prison of finitude
I mistook for my true home.

And now
if before anyone
my head inclines,
it is only before that Reality
which transcends every victory,
is untainted by every defeat,
and remains unnamed
beneath every name we fashion
with our mortal tongues—
that nameless One
from whom all names arise
and to whom all names return
as rivers to the sea.

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—Mykoul