Herald Of The Dawn after The Divine Whispers Poem by Mystic Qalandar

When I rise, I do not wake —
I am re-spoken from Silence Itself.

The night, a quiet crucible,
has pressed its faded sighs
into my marrow's hidden scroll.
What fell into the abyss has changed.
What remains: a cipher of the Infinite.

This light is no mere interval.
It is an ontological surge —
elixir from the Unseen's own kiln.
To breathe the Cosmic Ruh
is to drink the Primordial,
to see, through the veil's thin tear,
a world still being whispered into being.

I stand where Becoming begins —
the I — alchemical ash, unveiling.
I am not given a day.
I am its Witness.
I am the herald forged between
what died in the night's shadow
and what rises in the instant's gold.

So I renounce the world's restless pulse.
I do not chase the sun.
I let the sun collide with my silence.

Dawn is not out there —
it is the Primal Flame breaking the heart.

The Boundless Now — always beginning,
never ending.

MyKoul