The Fall Of Human Sovereignty Poem by Mystic Qalandar

When from the deep wounds
inflicted by my demonic self
blood was dripping,
I looked with drunken eyes
toward every horizon
and found flowers blooming
in the garden of my heart.

How could I perish
upon such beautiful soil?
It is the living colors of these blossoms,
the life-giving fragrance
of these evergreen buds,
that clothe my being—
not those fragile flowers
of silk and paper
whose beauty
is already preparing to fade.

Yet when my blood
fell upon the thorns,
they opened into fragrant blossoms—
flowers that breathe
eternal life
into heart and soul
and reshape
the meaning of existence.

───

I longed to flee,
yet how could I escape
such irresistible light?
When eternity
has already entered one's breath,
what refuge remains
for resistance?

Then,
without warning,
a terrible flame arose.

I felt nothing.

There was only
light—
boundless,
indivisible,
everywhere.

───

Meanwhile,
we polish our chains
and call them progress,
mistaking brighter prisons
for wider horizons.

The visible enemy
of the ego
won the battle,
yet no victor remained
to claim the prize.

This struggle
was neither of muscle
nor of mystical power.
It was the silent undoing
of the one
who imagined himself
its owner.

Everything was consumed,
yet the gate of return
remained open.

───

From our first breath
we wandered,
exiled
by our own selfhood,
caught in the revolving wheel
of greed,
desire,
and deception.

That wheel
must be broken,
not by force,
but by awakening.

Only then
may we return
to the kingdom
older than time,
nearer than breath,
hidden within every soul.

───

This human sovereignty
came to us
without earning,
without understanding.

Yet in a single moment
it crumbled into dust,
as though
it had never been.

Now that we know
the language of dust,
why do we remain strangers
to the treasure
it conceals?

Though every breath
may whisper
the illusion of separateness,
every particle
is a hidden doorway
to the Real.

There,
the eyes awaken
when here
they close.

───

Who was ever sustained
by a self
that could vanish?

If there was a sovereignty,
it was only
a passing veil.

The Real alone
has stood
behind every veil,
before every beginning,
beyond every ending.

Now
every drop of blood
is a mirror,
every wound
a well
where light
beholds
its own face.

───

When ego dissolved,
the true self appeared.

When the sovereignty
of the self collapsed,
the sovereignty
of Spirit
awakened.

Whether we were
or were not
is only a passing question.

Being
is neither diminished
by decline,
nor threatened
by annihilation.

It simply is—

abiding
from eternity
to eternity,
complete
within its own
infinite essence.

───

— MyKoul