This Knowing Forged In Silence Poem by Mystic Qalandar

This knowing was forged in silence,
scaffolded by nights too heavy to hold.

My strength was never a gift,
but a latent fire— a seed in the absolute dark— a fierce potential,
I learned to harness alone.

And from that ember,
I coaxed a dawn,
stitching a dress of light,
thread by thread,
breath by breath.

No companion could have found this fire.
No savior could have gentled this ascent.
The summit demanded a solitary price,
and I paid the toll in full,
leaving a path only I could trace.

At the peak, I touched the sun, witnessing its raw, open light
pour over the curve of the world.

Truth etched itself into my bones, a vast and terrible clarity.
Light pressed its full weight against my chest,
and in that crushing stillness,
a new devotion was born:
not to an echo, but to the voice;
not to a salvation, but to the survival;
to the self that rose, entire, from the ash.

I stand now.
Not waiting for a hand.
Not pleading for a glance.
Not undone.
Never undone.

And if my mind ever wanders
back to the hollow
where my name once lived,
it will find only this testament:
the mountain was always mine to climb.

And from this height,
the air is pure, uncut freedom.