The Nightingale's Song Poem by Mystic Qalandar

A secret pulled from dark into light—
full and bright with the heart's steady beat,
singing past time's edges.

It rests in its own puzzle,
held close—a quiet voice
wrapped in shade and shine.
An old tune, timeless,
breathing in silence,
a soft echo that fades
only to return—
with the dawn's first breath.

The nightingale slips
through night's curtain,
careful, unstoppable—
a spark hung between dark and sun,
its song rising like sacred smoke,
never surrendering.

This hidden truth sings alone—
yet wherever it lands,
unseen forms begin to stir,
light dances with shadow,
sound stretches from depth to height.

One purpose drives it:
to reveal itself,
life's quiet hint blooming—
into endless shapes and eyes,
its song mirroring the sky.

Still as breath, the nightingale waits—
the word carried on unseen wings,
a call that pierces night and day,
holding to the light born in stillness.

Its song flows through trees and streams,
runs in wild places and human dreams—
wings spread over time and space,
a universe hymn breathed into quiet.

It appears as bird, as soul,
calling hearts—
on the edge of understanding;
even when the world grows deaf—
the song remains, forever clear.

Energy without start or end,
wings opening into golden silence,
becoming pure stillness—
the boundless song—
beyond all form and noise.

Gliding over what fades,
its revelation unfolds:
love's melody rising beyond names.
The nightingale flies eternal,
always singing the one endless truth.

—December,3,2025