Never Broken, Never Halted Poem by Mystic Qalandar

Never broken, never halted —
an existential stream
without origin, without end.
Your striving,
only ripples across its surface.

This life:
an unending weave of joy and sorrow,
a visible face of eternity.

Your consent or resistance
is but the mind's echo in a boundless void.
Here lies the eternal law of time and space,
the primordial silence of the divine tradition.

The wheel of time?
A fragile metaphor.
In truth —
it is the pulse of a living consciousness
turning in the dust of nothingness,
lest you dissolve
into the essence of time.

But can you?
You ask.
Time does not perish;
time is your reality.
It is not a stream,
but the flowing breath of existence —
no hand can stop it,
no blade can sever it.

This is the truth:
happiness and grief,
darkness and light —
an endless dance of unity
behind the veil of duality.

The divine tradition is this:
opposites entwined —
born from each other,
returning into each other.
Daylight rests in the lap of night;
night's silence leans
to hear the song of dawn.

While we remain deaf
to this eternal pulse,
we are but dreams dreamt,
adrift in a void without end.

Should the world fall,
should the final hour descend,
the cycle of days remains —
the breath of the universe itself,
silent, indifferent, eternal.

No prayer bends its path,
no saint nor prophet shakes its order.
This is not fate —
but the very law of being.

And in the end,
when the dawn of realization breaks,
you will see:
"Time is alive" means
"I am the consciousness of eternity."

This knowing is your decree —
the fountain of immortality
in the river of annihilation.
You are the river,
flowing toward yourself.