I Heard 'the Word' that Echoes And Echoes Poem by Mystic Qalandar

I heard the word—
small, simple,
without letters
that could burst
or crash like thunder.

Yet to me
it rang celestial,
only Hu,
born of no instrument—
a sound without boundary,
without wall,
without the faintest end
to its unfolding Hu.

To me,
Yes was an open gate,
a widening light
toward the primordial source,
spoken in answer
to the ancient call:
Am I not your Lord?

Flickering—like a flame
trembling between
being
and becoming—
I rise and fall
with every breath
of that unseen sound.

In the hush,
a soft glow stirs,
a whisper of the Eternal
threading its light
through the thin fabric
of my being.

Some nights
I am only an ember,
a fragile orange sigh
on the edge of darkness—
yet even then
I burn within
for the One
who set me alight.

But when dawn
leans close to twilight,
I spark again,
casting golden truths,
reminding myself
that every flicker in me
belongs to the Sun.

So I keep flickering—
a humble flame
in the vastness—
wavering,
shimmering,
praying,
until the day
all trembling stills
and I ignite at last
into the fullness
of His light.

In a dark hallway,
a prayer lingers—
wrapped in one sound:
Hu.

Yes is surrender—
not challenge,
but yielding.
Yes is a trembling line
drawn by human hands
that still deserves
the strength of stone.

Yes means my soul
is no battlefield.
Yes means my silence
is surrender.
Yes means I remain
a human being
recognizing the truth,
even when I forget
how to see it,
how to return to it,
how to align with it.

I trust Yes for strength—
a force that carries me
through night's thick dark
and reshapes me
in the Origin.

For Yes is a language
learned slowly—
through hope,
through faith—
a word carved
from eternity,
from the command Be,
from the unbroken breath,
from the One whose
every second breath
unfolds a new creation.

Yes is vast,
resonant,
the loudest word
in all creation
when one finally chooses
to hear it.

And he who does not
say Yes
is not yet strong enough
to receive
His divine secret.

So I say it again:
Yes.
This time—
it echoes
and echoes.

—December,4,2025