Set Me Free, I Call Poem by Mystic Qalandar

Set me free.
Let these earthly chains—
this form of weight and fracture—
dissolve into the secret fire
within my bones.
Grant me the sky,
not as a place to arrive,
but as the very root
of my belonging.
Let me rise—

a single, unbound feather,
woven from a dream
too vast to keep inside,
lifted by a current
I did not summon
and cannot command.
Let it bear me onward,
even if the arc has no return,
and these wings I wear
are borrowed from the unseen.

A distant light beckons—
faint, unwavering,
a silver thread in the fabric
of deepening night.
It hums at the rim of the world,
softened by the patient hush of earth,
by the dust of forgotten stories
and names long surrendered.
I cannot tell if it is
the voice of the infinite
calling me home through silence,
or the echo of my own soul
stretching back through ages—
a flame I set to burn in the first shadow,
a memory of flight
from before I came to be.

So I surrender to the unknown,
a prayer carried into the breath of wind,
a constellation traced upon my skin.
For even a borrowed wing
feels the warmth of the sun,
and even a feather, in descent,
knows the exquisite truth of air.

The call is all.
The answer is in the ascent.

—September 6,2025