I Move Forward As A Child Poem by Mystic Qalandar

New sun, warm light—
divine dawn spills gold,
unraveling night's grasp.
With each rising,
a hush settles in my bones.

Joy stirs,
raw and radiant—
vast hands pour love,
a boundless draft flooding my chest.

Rebirth whispers,
the shape of a firstborn child,
softening the edges of my being.
A quietude, thick as honey—
primordial, unshaken.
I, a chalice of life.

I dream of birth,
a cry splitting silence,
truth spilling into the world.
The dream takes flesh.

My Fitrah cradles me,
its voice a tender flame:
"You were always a child—
whole, unbroken.
Illusions draped you,
hid you
even from your own breath.
Strip away the shrouds—
return to the first light,
the child eternal."

Hope clings like dew.
Love's fingers lace with mine.
Peace swells in my lungs,
my rūh adrift on sacred wind,
stillness pooling in my core.

There is a way.
And I am still a child—
unfettered essence,
vein of the divine,
the unnameable core of being.

My soul cries Yes! —
wild, unbridled,
an echo before time.

I move forward
as a child.