O Soul— eternal Flame, Ancient Kin Poem by Mystic Qalandar

O Soul—
eternal flame,
ancient kin.

Dreams whisper your name
through shadowed hours.
Mirrors hold your gaze
in eyes not mine.

The signs converge:
Turn inward.
Return.

These cells of dust
hum your primal call.
A covenant sealed
before atoms fused—
your breath shaped this form,
spun time's wheel.

Rise,
inner sovereign.
Claim the throne.

Scatter the illusions,
these shifting thoughts,
shadows lost
in mind's dim halls.

Let solar light
pierce the eyelid's veil.
Flood the folds of sorrow,
the lairs of fear,
the unveiled curves of joy.

Remember the vow
from the Before—
that vast hush
before questions rose,
before toxins fouled the inner sky
with lies and frail creeds.

Breathe radiance.
Drink from the core's fount.
Exhale pure light
until dark smoke drifts,
borne on winds it cannot surmount.

A final, divine whisper
through the mind's halls.
Dawn on lost horizons.

Shadows flee
the stream of awareness.
The ancient glow
resumes its gleam.

With a breath,
remembrance.
A tide-turn, true.

Breathe whole.
Present.
Radiant.
You.

Truth that was before breath.
Silence that outlives death.
The axis eternal
on which all worlds turn.

—December,1,2025