I Am, I Am Poem by Mystic Qalandar

If a pen could write the silence
that circles like a halo round my heart,
my troubles would dissolve
in the first breath of dawn.

If laughter could rise
to water the roots of contentment,
my eyes would shine—
crowned with the morning.

If a painter were called,
their colors would pale
before the light descending into my chest.
No lens, however sharpened by invention,
could frame the radiance
that rises from my soul.

For within me dwells wonder—
an untold joy no hand can hold.
As the sea hides fire on the horizon,
so too this hidden brilliance
burns within my heart.

Its arcs sweep like galaxies in flight,
scattering silver dust on the paths of night.
Planets turn in its silent gravity,
their orbits whispering
the same secret rhythm.
Nebulae unfurl in its breath,
clouds of flame clothed in color.

Older than the sun's first glimmer,
yet fresh as the newborn ray of light,
it resonates through constellations,
a vibration stitched into space.
Comets blaze to echo its passage,
and the moon keeps vigil—
its pale face turned toward the fire within.

This joy is the marrow of creation,
a tide that turns the wheel of time,
a spark behind the face of morning.
It floods the silence,
it crowns the heavens
with an unseen garland.

And if shadows rise or sorrows stir,
they scatter like dust on solar winds.
For what lives here cannot fade—
a universe contained in a single ember,
burning endlessly.

Tell me—what name can contain such
boundless light?
Not prayer, nor word, nor even breath,
but that pulse threaded through the stars,
the answer of eternity:
I am, I am.

—September 20,2025