The Seer And The Garment Poem by Mystic Qalandar

To possess a self
to know the primal fissure—
the seer set against the seen,
the thread against the garment.
Human hangs upon a hidden scale:
one pan weighted with the iron of Fate,
the other with the quicksilver of Will.
Whichever hand tilts the beam
forges the climate of the soul.

At the base of the world,
judgment kindles—
the flame that names the other,
the reflex that severs.
At the crown,
all currents are one river,
and compassion rises, a salt tide,
without direction, without effort.

Even that high standing
but a stance compelled,
a note in a prelude
sung before birth—
neither glory nor stain,
only the given aperture,
the cosmic lens.
But to see the lens
is to alter the light:
the eye that beholds
its own conditioning
beholds a different sky.

Therefore, the sovereign law holds:
as you conceive the watcher,
so you weave the watched—
in the grip of the shards,
or in the seamless whole.
And in that knowing,
the split itself is but a mirror,
and the mirror, at last,
is seen to be the face of God.

—MyKoul