The Grammer Of Silence. Poem by Mystic Qalandar

Every creature hums its frequency—
stone, storm, moth at the window—
but the ear that catches nuance
is not of flesh.
It is the inner faculty,
the sifter of static from signal,
the listener that discerns chant from chatter.

And when the sounds fall away—
the city's metal throat goes still,
the self's last note dissolves—
in that echoing hollow
the cipher begins to breathe.

I lean into the quiet,
attempt to step out of the spiral,
the gyre of longing,
the fracture, the fever,
the carnival of selves.
But the interior market never closes:
vendors of memory,
merchants of tomorrow,
each hawking their version of me—
I am both bazaar and bargain,
the buyer and the bought.

Horns rip the air.
Sirens thin like a digital wail.
The phone's blue eye blinks alive:
'Speak.'
'Speak now.'
'How is your heart? '
'Praise be.'
'And you? And you? '

Words—moths at a lamp—
fling themselves into the hush,
pouring into the crannies
where the soul had begun
to stretch its limbs.

The soul does not elbow for space.
It does not mount a podium or raise a hand.
It simply is—
the silence under the silence,
the root beneath the root.

And the Secret—
one unnamed pearl—
does not dawn in the glare of effort,
not in sweat or contortion of will.
It arrives when listener dissolves
into listening,
when the one who prays
is the prayer,
when the seer
is the seen.

I am beginning to see
how the world's grammar fooled me.
I thought I spoke,
shaping air with intention.
But the breath that fills my chest
is not mine.
The light that floods my eye
is not my keeping.

There is only One
at the center of the center,
the sole occupant of silence,
a mirror without face,
an echo without source,
a voice that speaks
because there is no other.

To release the name,
the title, the biography,
the hard-won edges of ego—
this is not erasure.
It is the final grammar,
the last conjugation,
the verb that verbs itself
into stillness.

Then, at last,
the ear that was never mine opens.
And the sound that was never sound arrives.

— MyKoul