Whispers Of Non-Separation Poem by Mystic Qalandar

I thought you were you,
and I was I—
a thin veil hung
between our breaths.

In moon-washed reveries,
I learned your voice—
not in words,
but in the subtle tremor
of a shared silence.

You promised we were bound
by an unseen, constant light.

I believed it—
not from naivety,
but because truth
gleamed in the very act of faith.

Then came the hush.
Your whispers no longer
brushed my soul—
no farewell,
no reason—
only the quiet fading
of your promise
from the waiting air.

So I kept my vigil
at the window of the unseen,
where habit lingers on
long after belief has died.

I had thought myself a shard,
broken from your whole—
that to be healed was to return.

But this dawn broke differently.

Lying still,
I felt a quiet fissure
open within—
not pain,
but the soundless
breaking of a lens.

And a voice, soft as the breath
before creation, rose:

How long will you clutch light in your fists,
awaiting a union that has never been apart?

There was no fall from the center,
no fracture of the soul.

Does the ocean divide itself
when it dreams of waves?

Separation is the trick
of the dreamer's gaze.

To awaken is to remember
what never left.

Whoever taught you to believe
in distance from truth,
in the fracture of your being,
has not seen the One
moving beneath all forms.

Now, I listen to silence itself.

And it calls me not toward you,
but inward—
into the wholeness
that was you and I,
long before names,
before the voice of longing
invented the echo of two.

—October,11,2025