We Are Still Human Poem by Mystic Qalandar

We have heard the rumours
of our extinction—
whispered in the static between stars,
etched into the graveyards of probability.

We spit them out.
They taste of iron and fear.

None of our closest heirs—
not the gene-forged, not the silicon-minded—
will inherit the throne of our becoming.

We will remain,
not as stone,
but as river.

Each evolution does not unmake us;
it re-members us.

We become more human—
not in flesh alone,
but in the physics of the soul,
in the metaphysics of a gaze,
in the flame that names itself I.

Perhaps this long, slow ignition
is not the death of a species,
but the shedding of a skin
we mistook for a soul.

Perhaps evolution is not our undoing
but our awakening—
consciousness learning
to see itself
through its own eyes,
knowing, at last,
that we are the light,
not broken from the sun.

We are not the end of being human.
We are the beginning
of becoming
more fully human.

—MyKoul