The Living Word Poem by Mystic Qalandar

In a starless sea of silence, I drown, my love,
Yet hear the unstruck lute's wild, secret fire—
The Eternal's pulse, the void's deep, drumming heart.
No player stands in view, no map is drawn.
Behind the tattered veil, ceaseless tides surge,
Where bees' buzz meets the primordial lover's cry.
The soul's flute cries Hu—all dualities dissolve
Into the Hu, the Nameless, in His own zikr.
Within the heart's own tavern, Simurgh calls,
A thunderous voice that pierces every screen.
Unity's blaze consumes the self to dream:
Player and played are one—unseen, serene.
The truth of oneness? It is this breath—
From silence, I arise: the Living Word.

—January, 22,2026