Dawn In The Làlbazar Of Life Poem by Mystic Qalandar

Dawns in the Làlbazar of life
arrive with a single intent:
to unveil the latent seeds,
the unborn yet fated gifts
from the Gracious Source—
the spring from which all rivers rise.

Sunlight pours like molten gold
upon the barren plain of being,
a white-sheet radiance
draping morning through evening,
enfolding my heart in the secret Flame,
immersing me in an ecstatic sea
where form dissolves into essence.

I drink the sun at dawn, the moon at dusk,
within a chamber vast as eternity,
its curtains drawn aside
like veils between the worlds.

I prepare tea as my mother watches,
her eyes tracing the geometry of my presence.
Through silence, we converse
in breaths drawn from the same Source,
tethered across shifting distances,
our bond unbroken, even in this strange city.

The ritual unfolds—
dawn and twilight alike:
crushed clove, sliced ginger,
water rising to sacred boil.
She sits, palms cradling her head,
her gaze fixed upon me,
axis and center of her devotion.

Enwrapped in one another,
our murmured words rise to eternity,
to the realm where form and time dissolve.
She whispers:
"Am I not your Lord?
I will pour abundance upon you."

I nod, affirming yes.
Her forehead glows,
her cheeks aflame with hidden light.
Perhaps she already knows
the bitterness of the tea I brew,
even as hesitation
sharpens my withdrawal.

Yet in her eyes lingers that distant flame,
and I tremble to whisper yes again.

My gaze strays west,
to the tower etched in sunlight,
its rising blaze igniting the clouds,
sparks of the divine in living fire.
A smile surfaces
through the ache in my chest.

Amber car-lights stream like planets,
deepening my yearning.
She sighs, lays her hand upon my head,
and murmurs:
"Let the tea be—
it is too bitter still.
Come, I will transmute it for you."

Her eyes overflow with nameless love,
lifting my heart into a secret current
that flows unseen between worlds.

The sun breaks free of the dense black cloud,
flooding the air with radiance,
banishing all shadows—
even the veil between mother and child.

No mirror, no form, no image:
neither I nor she.
Duality bows; the One remains.

I raise the cup of gnosis to my lips,
feeling the eternal pulse:
I am from my mother,
and she is from me.
All rivers arise from the One
and return, unbroken,
to the hidden Flame
that dances in every heartbeat,
and every heartbeat
returns to the Flame.

—September 10,2025