The Miracle Of Emptying Oneself Poem by Mystic Qalandar

To be empty is not to vanish.
It is as when the stone loosens
From the riverbed,
And centuries of parched dust
And the weight of borrowed names
Flow silently away—
Until the sealed cup
Becomes a living spring,
Transparent, unattached,
Where the taste of origin dissolves.

This surrender is not lack;
It is a fullness brimming with light—
That One, hidden from sight,
Passing through the lattice of forms,
Erases the maps of distances.
Beyond word,
Beyond the thirst of witnesses,
It descends into the shoreless ocean,
Where every drop
Carries the trace of the ocean itself.

In this expanding silence,
A thousand mirrors transform into light and shatter,
Yet not a particle is lost—
Only that gathered light of ages,
Which in every face, every gaze,
Becomes the touch of that limitless heart.

Here, there is no question, no quest,
Only the pure breath of existence,
Flowing in the leaf's flexibility,
The wave's melody,
The heartbeat of a star,
Descending into ear, eye, and stillness.

And when the soft wave of liberation rises,
The knower and the known dissolve.

Truth remains—
Alone, yet dancing everywhere,
Abiding in its endless forms.

— October,12,2025