A Call From Primordial Dawn Poem by Mystic Qalandar

A call from primordial dawn—
a self-shaped pulse, a trembling world
unseen. O Seeker, watch—
the final veils begin to tear.

The self's mirage grows thin
in twilight's soft barzakh—
that seam where One and Many
breathe the same thin air.

Divine alchemy unfolds:
legions winged in clay, inscribed
in scripts of radiant light—
envoys breaking Abraha's pride.

The hoopoe, Solomon's scout,
keeper of dawn's sealed script,
bears the queen's question,
undoing knots of light.

O Raven, witness to grief eternal,
you who stood at Adam's waking,
you saw the secret of clay:
the primal dust's equality,
the first letter of Return.

Manna and salwa, equal hunger—
a prayer cooking in the belly;
completion dissolves,
annihilates—
such is the turning cosmos.

Birds spring from Jesus' palms (A.S.) ,
held in God's paused breath...
Then the command came:
"Be! "
Flight bursts into flame.

Miracles unfold, sphere within sphere,
halos etching dawn's patterns—
every feather, theophany,
every wing, a sacred verse.
Creation spins,
sphere within sphere,
in eternal remembrance
of the One.

—November,22,2025