The Programme Of The Brain Poem by Mystic Qalandar

I live inside my brain,
I live through my brain,
under the programme of the brain—
and most times, I ask myself:
who, then, am I?

With time,
the noises in my mind
grow louder and louder.
I lose myself in the static,
in chaos and confusion.

I am no surrenderer,
yet somewhere in my heart
there has always been a longing
for an ending—
not of life,
but of this division:

to end the brain,
or end the mind.

Only one of them
can be my reality.

I am the dreamer and the dream,
confined within this cranial shrine.
I am the prism and the light,
bent through the glass
of space and time.

I am the prisoner and the warden,
bound to the same labyrinth—
this bio-logic,
this cosmic script,
this programme of the brain.

And as the spheres turn,
the inner clamour grows:
a dissonant choir
of fractured selves,
a chaos only I can hear.

I am lost in the static of being,
a signal drowned in its own noise.

I am no traitor to this vessel,
no rebel against the will to be.
Yet an esoteric longing
has quietly taken root in me—

not for the blade,
but for the severance;
not for death,
but for the sundering
of the watcher from the dream.

To silence the brain—
this heavy anchor;
or to dissolve the mind—
this flickering mirror.

For they appear as two,
while I remain one.

And this is the paradox
I cannot escape:

if the brain falls silent,
does the world disappear?
If the mind shatters,
does the mirror break—
or does something remain
that never needed the mirror?

Perhaps the brain
is only the instrument.
Perhaps the mind
is only its music.
And perhaps I am neither—
but the silence
in which both arise.

This is the final theorem,
the last and most terrible question:

What must disappear
for the One to remain?

Only one can be my reality.
Only one can be my voice.

Or perhaps—

when both fall silent,
I may finally hear
who has been speaking
all along.

—MyKoul