The Hidden Call Of The Dawn Breeze Poem by Mystic Qalandar

The hidden call of the dawn breeze,
touches the soul, awakening dreams,
dancing upon flowers in an unseen song.
Bees, drunk on the sweet scent of solitude,
drown in nectar's golden elixir.

A rhythm woven of trust,
a whisper shaped from thanks,
the rapture of praise, the jewel of grace—
the humble bee hums,
immersed in nature's silent symphony.

A hundred blossoms bloom unbidden,
like rivers of flowing gold—
for their veiled and nameless queen,
dreaming in the hive's deep trance.

Bees come without fear,
bearing the gift of life,
a mystery veiled in knowing—
the timeless tale of servant and Lord.

Where is force?
The Lord is but a murmur in the breast,
cloaked in sanctuary,
in the wordless stream of light.

The unseen nectar's mercy,
wrapped in tender touch,
spoken without voice—
a flower half-alive without its bee,
a bee half-blind without its flower.

Neither is the servant ever separate from the Lord,
nor the Lord ever fully known to the servant—
a note beyond all hearing,
dissolved in the cosmos' hymn.

Every atom sways in His cadence,
with every breath, every pulse,
in the meter of the eternal chant,
cloaked within His servants' breath