The Seed Is, The Seed Was, The Seed Will Be Poem by Mystic Qalandar

Before existence, before absence—
before the first veil of seeming—
the Seed flowered in the One's boundless dream:
the Unity of Being, unveiled.

Before the hush of names,
its hidden Name, the Greatest Name,
throbbed as an undying flame.

Cast into dust's arcane womb,
into shadow's molten forge,
it veiled the Face of the Beloved,
drank deep of becoming's elixir:
veins lit by tajalli's trace,
breath unfurling a Qur'anic leaf,
fire transmuting self to rose-born scent.

The petal split in rapture's soundless cry,
birthing realms the buried kernel could not cross.
Perfume ascended like dhikr to the Throne—
unseen roots drinking eternity's grace.

"Die before you die,
that you may never die, "
the Seed intoned to itself.

The One refracted in mirrors of manifestation,
each shard chanting Seed—
a husk for worlds unnumbered,
hoarding forests in the pupil's dark:
the ‘ayn al-yaqīn,
the heart's obsidian certainty.

Who is born, when veils alone awaken form?
Who perishes, when husks fall from the Timeless?
The Seed dissolved, unspoken.

It rose: the Tree of Life,
baqā's green-breathing stem.
The Seed Is.
The Seed Was.
The Seed Will Be.

The Tree effaced the seed's frail phantom.
The Forest chanted the One in every bough.
The Seed remembered—whole.
Before the Seed,
the Seed was whole.
There is nothing but the seed.

— February,16,2026