Whole Creation—one Root, One Light. Poem by Mystic Qalandar

All things upon the creature's breast—
The womb of forms, the veil of living clay—
Are manifest in light's unsetting east;
The roots of night are laid bare to the day.
For what was coiled in serpent-folded deeps,
Where shadow-tides through sunken caverns glide,
Now flowers open where the dawn-light creeps
And stars drink life from darkness as a bride.

Awake, you ember sleeping in the ash!
Rise, hidden seed, through winter's crystal tomb.
The light that lights the lark at zenith's flash
Has kindled your slow blood to burst in bloom.
Walk then as one who treads the subtle earth,
Where every footfall prints a deathless name.
Not as the branch that knows not its own birth,
But as the rose that leans into the flame.

Redeem the hour: the bracken hides a snare,
The pool reflects what hunts between the reeds.
Yet you—you are the air between the air,
The silence that the singing phoenix seeds.
Do not be dull to what the raven knows
When moonlight splits the pomegranate's skin.
The will of Light, the wound where light yet grows,
Breathes you, as tides breathe shore, and begin.

For Light is not a stranger to the clay,
Nor flame a guest in this forgetful bone.
The ground of being, the unveiled, the hidden way—
You are the mirror and the marble stone.
And in that Light, the ermine and the stain,
The hyacinth and the shard of shattered night,
Are gathered where the star consumes its pain—
One seed, one root, one incorruptible light.

MyKoul