Dawn Vow Poem by Mystic Qalandar

Day opens its first bright seam.
The last prayer fades.
A wandering heart comes home.

Silence opens its petals to dawn—
slender light unrolls,
walks soft through me.
I learn the delicate craft
of receiving: light and music,
wanting only to be whole.

Beauty gathers like scattered glass,
arranges itself,
fills the hollow rooms
where sleeping questions lie.

A lark writes on air; its song
maps the way past small mirrors of doubt.

In the hush, the desert breathes,
remembering an ocean.
Sand-quiet teaches patience.
Nature draws me back to myself:
roots taste the dark,
branches reach without grasping.

Stillness, a holy river,
hollows me into readiness—
wonder pours in like dawn
through carved stone.

There, between last night and first light,
I renew a vow made in quiet hours:
to know the Beloved by unknowing,
to hold His face in every ordinary thing.
Not to possess the path
but to be possessed by it—
walking as a leaf walks on the wind,
surrendered and attentive.

May my steps be small as breath,
certain as prayer.
May my sight learn the economy
of hidden things.
Let the world be my scripture—
every bird, door, grain of sand—
and my heart a single lamp
burning toward Him.

In the soft arithmetic of dawn
I vow again:
to go deeper than praise,
to stay when longing eases,
to answer the call that names me
only in silence,
and to walk with Him,
somehow known and knower both.

— MyKoul