I Did Not Rise By Accident Poem by Mystic Qalandar

I was born of a silent command—
a single, soundless syllable: Be.
It did not ripple through space
nor rend the fabric of time;
it moved as pure absence—
a stillness so complete
that only Being itself
could witness its birth.

Before that whisper,
I was neither thought nor shadow,
not yet an outline cast
upon the canvas of becoming.
I was pure potential—
a promise folded in infinite dark,
waiting without form,
waiting without awareness.

The command descended not as voice,
but as the fissure between moments—
the void where existence trembles,
hidden and revealed at once,
a pulse beneath all pulses
where time dissolves.

I did not rise by accident,
nor as an echo unaware;
intent slept quietly within me—
a pattern threaded through the chaos,
a secret architect shaping
the fractal of my presence.

That Commander—
beyond face, beyond presence—
is the unfathomable source:
neither One nor Many,
neither known nor unknown,
the origin unspoken
holding both silence and sound.

In that stillness,
I learned to read the invisible script—
not ink nor letter, but the rhythm
of my unfolding:
thought blooming like dawn,
the inner contractions and expansions
like the breathing of worlds.

From a sealed and quiet place
the command poured forth—
unspoken geometry,
a language without language,
inscribing infinity
within the finite contour of my being.

It carved a void within the void,
a path that cleaves the shadows,
awakening dust to stir,
to break inertia
and begin.

I rose from that wordless origin—
not fully knowing,
yet upheld by the force
that endlessly creates,
shapes,
and names me into existence.

And through the eternal flux,
I hear within the silent void
that primal command—
the presence that never speaks
yet summons forth
the unending becoming
of being itself.

—December,5,2025

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