Ocean Of Dreams Poem by Mystic Qalandar

In the twilight of evening, upon the shore's path
I walk, toward the Ocean of Dreams,
Where the moon, hidden, draws the tides—
The silent breath of all existence, carrying me
Beyond the surface of the unseen.

There, in the fathomless depths of stillness,
I dive higher than the storms of the mind,
Piercing the veils of oblivion and memory,
Descending into worlds unseen of the unseen—
Where the soul's own light traces its journey
Upon primeval waters.

I seek not only the pearls of memory,
But the quest for that single, flawless jewel,
Radiant at the ocean's floor—
The star that never set,
That has always shimmered with its own light—
That transcendent Being.

I gather time's carved corals,
Not as remnants of the past,
But as living patterns of becoming and adorning,
Every path guiding toward the unknown,
Every bend a turn toward the invisible,
Every deed inscribed in the scroll of actions.

And in the silent current, I behold afar
The glimmering gleam of those paths
Upon which no foot has ever trod—
Not shadows of a predetermined future,
But possibilities breathing
In the womb of the present,
Each a thread of the grand design,
Woven by the needle of intention
And the eye of the unseen.

Every moment of wakefulness is a ritual of remembrance,
Every meeting a mirror of the One,
Every triumph a step in the long love's journey,
Every inspiration a key to the door of the hidden.

From the golden light of dawn
To the violet hues of dusk,
And then the preparation to enter that night—
Not a night of rest, but of great work:
To distill the juice of contemplation's fruits
And transform them into the divinely inspired book
Of gnosis and understanding.

Life is not a journey of a single day,
But a voyage upon an unending road—
Not a line drawn from birth to death,
But countless labyrinths,
With no center but the traveler himself—
Who traverses it,
As the sun and moon move in their orbits.

Life is a dream, and for the dreamer,
A dream within a dream,
Awakening in a dream and then another dream,
And I, through the Ocean of Dreams, upon waves of subtle form,
Journey forth,
Beyond the guardians of the heavens,
passing through the cosmic wail,
Until I reach that silent chamber—
Where the dreaming 'I' and the waking 'I'
Are but two faces of one celestial breath.

Then in that oceanic stillness,
I walk in wakeful dream—
Not toward some vaster knowledge,
But toward that gnosis which has no expanse,
Toward that wisdom which needs no gentleness,
Toward that joy which is not silent,
But the thundering silence of divinity.

And in this dream, I remain neither the dreamer,
Nor the dream's character, but become the dream itself—
In the embrace of that singular Being, who has no second,
Where the Ocean of Dreams and the shore of wakefulness
Melt and become one,
And dissolve into infinite, luminous stillness—
That radiant awakening, which was always here,
Waiting to remember itself, through me.

— MyKoul