Shadows Trembling On Water Poem by Mystic Qalandar

I spent a lifetime
gathering the words of others—
pages rich with quiet wisdom,
ink that traced the outline
of a sea I had never crossed.

I believed the Beloved
hid behind meaning,
that light could be cradled
like pearls in an open palm—
a treasure I could claim.
But they, like mercury,
slid away,
silvered drops vanishing
before my grasp.

But one dawn,
the Real awakened within—
not as thought,
not as memory's echo,
but as a Presence
that dissolved every distance.

Then I saw each book I cherished
for what it truly was:
a shadow trembling
upon shifting water,
vanishing the instant I reached.

All my learning—
that careful holding—
was breath upon glass,
a fleeting fog
fading before my heart
could touch a single letter.

So I gathered them—
every volume, every proof,
every name for the Nameless—
and offered them
to the river's quiet depths.

One by one,
I let them slip away.
As they sank,
the water whispered:
You have traced my surface
long enough.
Now—
step in.

And with that breath,
my self rippled,
dissolved,
my knowing softened into surrender.

I stepped into the current.
It carried the last of my questions,
the final fragments of weight—
and the river began to rewrite me,
deep where words dissolve
and Presence is all there is.

—December,5,2025