On Potter's Wheel Poem by Mystic Qalandar

O Potter's Wheel,
where shaping hands
awaken vessels
from earth's primordial hush—
our sole invocation now:
to spin the wheel of
Your primordial light.

O Potter, soul's Eternal Beloved,
cast one tender glance
upon this frail heart of clay.
Across vast silences of existence,
we tread as pilgrims
craving Your nearness—
by Alast's primordial covenant,
let one drop fall
from the hidden fount
veiled in Your breath's mystery.

My Moon of the Unseen,
wanderer through inner firmaments,
breathed: "Leave fruits to ripen—
meddle not with what matures
in divine time's patient alchemy."
You, the living Axis
around which truths eternally turn—
descend into this humble cell
of longing, dhikr,
and tajallī's radiant unveiling.

The Garden of Manifestation wept
to the Potter of myriad forms:
"Mercy—sever not our roots
from realms of becoming."
I implored:
"Dawn the hour of essence."
You whispered:
"Even lions hush
before the sanctuary
veiling Mystery."

So let this clay ascend
as dawn's first serenity—
upright, unmoved, luminous;
for in every world, O Potter,
the soul's inscribed path
is stillness within Your Truth.
When veils dissolve,
may I dissolve as pure resonance—
one breath,
one spark,
one echo
of the One who summoned
from pre-eternity.

—November,30,2025