I Roll Like The River Poem by Mystic Qalandar

I roll like the river—
born of a hidden spring,
that veiled, eternal source
where existence dreams itself awake.

I wander through lands of shadow and gold,
a restless witness to the world's forgetting,
forever yearning for the sea—
where all waters dissolve into the One,
the Origin before all origins,
the Silence behind every name.

No force can still my current,
no wall can hush what moves within:
that ancient, unwavering pull,
a call older than memory—
a quiet tide of longing
woven through marrow and stone.

I asked,
"What keeps you flowing, boy? "
He smiled—slow as dawn—
and whispered:

"The breath that lifts the sun and moon,
that bends the stars in praise,
it moves through my depths unbidden.
Its song is my motion,
its hush—my surrender.
How could I refuse such mystery? "

And I knew then—
no being ever rests.
Every atom circles its hidden fire;
even the pebble thirsts in silence,
and the heart, that spinning compass,
turns always toward the formless
Remembering.

It is carved in my soul—
this sacred, nameless ache,
this ceaseless pull beneath still waters;
a silent pilgrimage
through the corridors of time.

Each breath unwinds illusion,
each step burns the desert of self,
until the mirage of separateness
melts into a light-bearing silence.

No stop.
No return.
Only the endless opening within—
where longing becomes luminous,
where faces dissolve in surrender,
and the inner Sun rises:
uncreated, whole,
pouring radiance
beyond form, beyond end.

Here—
at the threshold of all seeking—
I bow in quiet wonder,
drinking, not knowing,
from the wellspring
of the Eternal Beloved.

— October,12,2p025