At The Threshold Of Dawn Poem by Mystic Qalandar

Above me, clouds move without sound
through fathomless blue—
translucent veils
between the seen
and the Unseen.

Around me, stillness descends,
so tender, so complete,
that silence itself
seems to draw breath
from the breast of Being.

Only the birds disturb the hush,
their songs ascending
like remembered prayers,
as though each carried
the memory of a Paradise
the world has not lost—
only forgotten.

I stand astonished
as the earth wakes from its darkness
and first light
touches the world's face
with the gentleness of recognition.

Everything is born again,
yet nothing is new.

Dawn does not bring the light;
it lifts the veil
from what has always been.

Perhaps the dark was never light's absence,
but its inwardness—
the closed room
where the unseen
prepares to appear.

And within me
a quiet joy begins to flower,
a nameless love
without hunger,
without possession,
without even the wish
to be understood.

It asks for nothing,
having met what cannot be owned.
It says nothing,
for beneath the tongue
lies a knowing older than speech.

O beauty of sunrise,
you open in me
rooms I had forgotten were mine,
and your still radiance
moves through the body
like the memory of origin.

For a moment
the light I behold
and the love I feel
are no longer two.

The eye becomes the dawn.
The dawn becomes the seeing.
And the one who stood between them
dissolves—

not into absence,
but into nearer intimacy
with all that is.

Here, at the threshold,
the self loosens its ancient name.
The seeker falls silent.
The sought lays down its distance.

What remains is neither arrival nor departure,
neither world nor beyond the world,
but a luminous interval—
the breath between veiling and unveiling,
where existence remembers
it was never apart from its Source.

And I stand there, wordless,
while dawn unfolds
within me and around me,
while the visible grows transparent
to the Invisible,

and the heart, released from seeking,
rests
in what it has always been.

—MyKoul