The Eternal Mystery Poem by Mystic Qalandar

The Eternal Mystery—
not a name, not a shape,
only an urge in the dark
one act, one yearning:
Will.

And from that mysterious Will—
the single command, Be,
the Universe uncoiled:
galaxies like scattered ink of light,
nebulae breathing radiance,
stars stitching silence into pattern,
worlds blooming with color and scent,
beauty multiplying in every direction.

Yet out of all this radiance,
beyond the blazing stars, the oceans,
and the hems of the mountains,
He chose a single vicegerent,
a single vessel of highest rank:
the human being—
that it might become,
His living witness, and signature,
inscribed upon a form of sounding clay
With His trembling Greatest Name,
quickened by the life-Giver
who flows where He wills.

But even then,
the creative action did not stop.
That mysterious spirit journeyd on,
through evolution,
passing through ages of ice and fire, traveling
so that consciousness might rise
and ripen,
until the Perfect Human emerged—
not a statue, not a myth,
but a mirror polished bright by longing,
a heart emptied out for Truth,
born of the breath of
that same living Spirit.

Only then
did the deepest chambers of splendor
begin to open:
veils loosening,
shadows learning to speak in light.

For it is through the Perfect Man
that the hidden steps into view,
that the unseen traces its signs
across the face of this universe,
that silence finds a tongue,
and the Eternal Mystery—
at last—
unfolds its own mysteries,

not with thunder and lightning,
not in flame and fire,
but through the quiet, heart-stilling grace
of a perfect human life.

—MyKoul