The Mystery Of The Divine Decree: The Soul Poem by Mystic Qalandar

In eternity's hush, where silence held its reign—
No time, no space, no turning of the dawn;
No spinning wheel of day, no breath of night—
There dwelt a secret, radiant and clear:
The soul.

Not shaped in clay, nor passing through time's slow gate,
But a pure command, vast and measureless—
A flash of God's will, a slender stream of light,
A subtle wave within the Ocean of the Divine.

Thus it was spoken:
"The soul is of My decree."
I asked my heart, in depths of whispered thought:
"If decree it be, can it be torn away
From its Commander—as sunlight from its source,
As wave from sea, or music from the lute
That lends it voice? Can it be left alone? "
No—the soul forever clings to its light.

It enters the flesh as a traveler rests
Awhile at an inn—for a night, for a day;
A few brief breaths, dream-journeys swiftly flown,
Then comes the summons home, serene and sweet.

Yet what return? No dust, no weary road—
Only the flash of knowing, a quiet smile:
It was always there, turning back to its source.

Slowly the veil lifts, and truth whispers low:
"Separation was but a shadow, distance a trick
Of the eyes; decree and Commander never parted,
Bound in eternal love, indivisible."

The soul is the murmur of light, the breath of truth,
Beating in hearts, echoing without end
Through every vast and fathomless cosmos.

And when all voices fade and time's wheel rests—
This alone remains, eternal and free:
The soul—God's melody, the boundless decree
That never began and shall never cease.

— MyKoul

March,7,2026