In the space beneath the moving pen,
Before the lettering is revealed,
In the moment between two breaths when
One’s destiny is yet to be sealed,
There‘s a Word that remains unspoken
In the darkness before light is seen:
That is where I AM, whole, unbroken,
Ever witnessing, seeing, unseen.
Poems by M. Ali Lakhani in Sacred Web Volume 54:
Divine Cartography
In the space beneath the moving pen, Before the lettering is revealed, In the moment between two breaths when One’s destiny is yet to be sealed, There‘s a Word that remains unspoken In the darkness before light is seen: That is where I AM, whole, unbroken, Ever witnessing,
M. Ali Lakhani
Advent
In the quiet before dawn, Hearts dissolve like mist in rain, Becoming a new light sown, Lustre on an open plain. Then stars, unstrung, fall again, Time scatters the wind-blown sand. All is gathered, grain by grain, Into the palm of your hand. The sky bids the night adieu, Angels
M. Ali Lakhani
Golden Bowl
From brokenness comes birth. Dying, we know our worth. Yet we scant our stature, Blind to our true nature. For God in man did build A vessel to be filled — Hollowing out the soul To be His Golden Bowl: In it we see a face — His Image and His Grace.
M. Ali Lakhani
Things That Hold Me
Things that hold me Demand the art Of letting go Like rain in clouds Or sands blown by A sirocco. My fingers reach To grasp the air No lungs can store But only hold What releasing Makes a space for. Just so, beauty Needs the vast dark To light a
M. Ali Lakhani
To Love is First to See
To love is first to see, To find the ‘you’ in me, Your sky within my sea That ripples endlessly Out from a source in me. Wholeness I cannot flee, Enfolding what must be, Unfurling wings in me To lift me buoyantly, Spirit, now still and free.
M. Ali Lakhani
Winter Tree
Unsheltered now it stands, A skeleton, exposed, That barely comprehends The seasons life has closed. Yet, there’s an opening — The promise that stirs spring, Hidden, intimating The gift that faith will bring.
M. Ali Lakhani
Snow
Sky falls, seeding earth Soundlessly with light. Stasis, till spring’s birth, Incandesces sight. Till then, nothing‘s not Beneath stillness still. The mind’s in her cot Dreaming of until When tendrils first shoot Fresh in golden ray, And from holy root Breath blows into clay.
M. Ali Lakhani
