Love The Light That Holds All Poem by Mystic Qalandar

If Love is not the first to rise within,
the heart forgets its language—
and all we build turns hollow,
echoes without a soul.

Love is the ground of being,
the breath beneath all prayers,
the quiet rhythm steadying our trembling.
It whispers without sound—
a presence veiled in tenderness,
guiding us through every flaw we bare.

It asks only
for the courage to open,
to stand undefended before truth—
to see the Beloved
in the pulse between breaths.

Each inhalation becomes remembrance,
each exhalation—surrender.
Through us Love moves,
not as word, but as being itself.

When Love is lived,
even silence feels complete.
Our shadows, freed from exile,
become pathways back to light.
We shatter—yes—
but in the breaking
we find the light that holds each fragment.

I carry in one embrace
the lion's fire and the lamb's stillness,
the rose's ache, the thorn's devotion.
Day and night entwine like lovers—
each yielding to the other's glow.

For Love, whole in contrast,
is never lost, never lessened.
In its knowing,
we meet again and again—
souls returning through the same holy door.

Here, where the ordinary brushes eternity,
we learn to walk gently—
hand in hand with the unseen,
alive to the quiet pulse that binds all things.

Let Love be the breath between us,
the step that never ends,
the flame that forgets to die.

— November,9,2025