Before Winter's Veil, The Spring Stirs Poem by Mystic Qalandar

Today, I turn a reverent heart
toward spring's sacred pulse—
not the cycle the mind recalls,
but the silent resurrection
breathing beneath winter's veil,
where life, cloaked in frost,
keeps her ancient vigil,
waiting for the faintest sigh
to awaken the spirit
dormant beneath the ice.

A yearning, timeless, endless,
for the eternal return,
the ceaseless rebirth
of the Beloved.
Each bud, a gentle messenger,
stirs with a breath
from earth's hidden memory,
unfolding like a prayer
whispered at dawn.

Light one candle—
its flame a holy minaret
rising in silence,
calling the True Self
from beneath the dust
of forgotten eternities.

Bless the primal waters—
mirrors of the first song,
wells from which creation's breath
first sprang—
a melody ancient as time.

Spread a cloth of silence—
a veil of patient stillness,
the fertile soil of remembrance—
draping time's weary grave.

Where cycles turn, return,
where shadows bow to light,
the dance of death and renewal
flows in endless, sacred rhythm.

Listen: the hush between heartbeats,
the murmur beneath the stars,
the quiet pulse of becoming,
the eternal whisper of all that is.

Cleanse the black residue of sorrow;
let gold memory rise from dust.
Do not recall warmth as a dream—
warmth never fled.
It rested in shadow,
awaiting Love's unveiling.

Let the sacred song arise
on the wings of morning birds—
messengers from unseen realms
bearing a hymn of cosmic return.
Their song, a secret refrain,
an echo from the heart's deep knowing:

It is not winter's silence,
nor the flicker of the transient sun,
but the everlasting meeting with the unity—
where snow weaves mist around the soul,
and deep below,
the spirit stirs,
longing to wake
from its ancient, divine dream.

—November,19,2025