Since The Beginning Of Time Poem by Mystic Qalandar

Since the beginning of time,
in the womb of pre-eternal night,
I waited for change—
the breath of the Hidden One—
for everything to arrange
in the dance of divine decree.

To make sense of wild creation,
the thunder of attributes from the Essence,
I expected to know:
Why, from nothingness, the Veil tore,
why existence unfolded
into measure and motion,
into hunger and stars,
particles yearning for the Whole.

I searched for the pattern
hidden beneath becoming—
the secret script of wahdat etched in flux—
certain that somewhere
the whole could be seen:
entire and unmoving,
the Face before faces.

But perhaps the whole
cannot be held in fragments,
nor witnessed by a mind
born within division—
a shadow severed from the Light.
For what could stand apart
enough to observe oneness
without already leaving it?
What eye beholds the Sun
while claiming its own sight?

That answer may never come.
Or perhaps it is answered
by silence itself—
the indivisible, the Ahadiyyah,
the indeterminate
refusing interpretation,
the Ocean swallowing all names.

And still I persist:
naming currents in the dark,
mapping reflections
as though mirrors could reveal
the face before all forms—
the polisher and the polished One.

But at least some—
some blame my methodologies,
these faltering steps toward the Threshold,
unveiling nothing but the seeker's own veil.

MyKoul