My Primordial Home Poem by Mystic Qalandar

There is a place I cannot forget—
the cradle of my first dawn,
where primal light unfurled
and rooted itself in my knowing.
Home.

There I was chosen—
not by speech,
but by a silence that already held my name.
A vessel shaped of dust and breath,
fashioned to hear the unseen.
Home.

There life first gathered within me,
a spark curling into a name,
a pulse trembling in the dark.
Home.

Those first moments never grew old.
Ages dropped around them like husks,
while time itself grew still—
a watchman at the threshold.
I remain within that ancient hour.
Home.

The forbidden tree has never withered.
Its sap still rises
through hidden veins of longing.
And the concealed Tree of Life
scatters ember-secrets
into every thought that turns back
toward its source.
Home.

Though I have wandered far
through the long corridors of flesh and history,
not a single breath has drifted
from my soul's first dwelling.
Home.

I have not forgotten—
that place before all places,
that time before all times,
that luminous, breathing stillness
where the One dreamed me awake.
Home.

—November,23,2025