Ghazal: Song Without Lips Poem by Mystic Qalandar

What song ascends from no lips, yet is sung—singing, singing?
Each breath a flute whose melody is strung—singing, singing.

My every vein, a trembling wire, sings—singing, singing;
No hand, no lute—yet music from me springs—singing, singing.

You fill all tongues; that truth needs no display—uttering, uttering;
Your Name I traced with no pen's ink that day—singing, singing.

Upon Your Name the cup descends in wine's wild play—drinking, drinking;
I drank, awake, though all around me sway—singing, singing.

This heart, in tavern-trance, has lost its way—becoming, becoming;
When, where, how You dawned—I cease to weigh—singing, singing.

I sought You in the deep of self's dark night—seeking, seeking;
My heart became my Kaaba, flooded with light—singing, singing.

No call to prayer, no bow to mark the place—pointing, pointing;
This wordless core alone reflects Your Face—singing, singing.

Mykoul, Your love has torn the veil of seeming—finding, finding;
No "I" remains—in You, forever mingling—singing, singing.

— February,16,2026