In The Beginning Was The Unmanifest Poem by Mystic Qalandar

Before the first syllable
trembled on the void,
before time unfurled
its garment of stars,
before breath became wind—
there was the Unmanifest.

Today is the echo of that Silence.
Tomorrow, its promise yet unborn.

Who can circumscribe the Boundless?
Who can mirror a Mirror
that bears no face?

Not form—
yet every form is His veil.
Not thought—
yet every thought is His ripple.
Not the eye—
yet every eye
is His longing to see.

He is the Word—
not carved in stone,
nor imprisoned in sacred texts,
but the Word that rises, unbidden,
from the innermost chamber of Being:

the Uncreated
giving tongue to Itself.

And that Word,
the instant it leaves the breath,
is already a fading shadow of the Real.

It belongs to the past;
yet in its vanishing
it traces the arc of eternity.

It fades from the human ear,
but never from the Ear of the Infinite.

So is the Divine:

the Nameless,
named in every name;

the Stillness,
moving as all motion;

the Hidden,
revealing Itself
through the very art of concealment.

He is the ladder
and the rung.
He is the journey
and the destination.

What appears—
the particle,
the planet,
the passing sigh—
is His deliberate disguise.

What remains
beyond the tapestry
of birth and decay
is His unwavering Face.

Where shall you seek Him?

He is the seeker
and the sought,
the question
and the silence
that answers.

In the beginning,
in the end,
and in the eternal Now
that holds them both—

the Divine is.

Unspoken in the beginning,
He spoke through Silence into form,
and crowned creation
by entrusting Speech to Man.

Perhaps
this is the deepest mystery:

that every word we speak
is already an echo
of the First Word—

and every silence
a return
to the Unspoken.

There is only One Truth:

that which was,
that which is,
and that which
shall forever be spoken.

—MyKoul