Cosmic Fertilization: A Tale of the Sacred Seed

By: Mostafezur Rahman 

In darkened depths where silent fountains rise,

Unseen by any mortal eye or gaze,

A gentle whisper called beneath the skies,

And woke a tiny wanderer into praise.

Among ten thousand hopes that breathed unknown,

I stirred—a humble pilgrim of the night,

Bearing the quiet history yet unshown,

Waiting to step into the morning light.

Through solitary halls where shadows rest,

In patient slumber grew my tiny frame;

A quiet strength was poured into my breast,

Before I knew the earth, or bore a name.

I learned to move, to trust the unknown way,

To wait for that high hour ordained by Fate,

When Life’s great trumpet calls the soul away

To leave the stillness of its early state.

Then forth I bounded on a surging tide,

Nurtured by gentle streams of sacred grace;

No simple flight of nature or of pride,

But a grand march across the realms of space.

Through narrow vales and bitter, testing air,

Where many weary travelers sank to sleep,

A higher hand sustained my spirit there,

And led my footsteps through the shadows deep.

Guided by silent signals from afar—

As mariners are led by one bright star—

I swept through chambers sacred, vast, and still,

Obedient to a high, celestial will.

For in this race, where countless legions move,

'Tis not mere swiftness wins the crown above,

But gentle Harmony and Nature's law

That fill the humble heart with silent awe.

And lo! Within a quiet, sunlit bower,

There waited, calm, the longed-for Golden Flower.

With sacred touch, the outer veil was thinned,

Soft as a promise carried on the wind;

Two spirits met, two ancient paths grew one,

As morning dew receives the rising sun.

No boastful triumph marked that quiet hour,

Nor sorrow for the ones that fell behind;

It was the unfolding of a holy power,

The thoughtful order of a Sovereign Mind.

From one tiny cell, by heavenly design,

Begins the wondrous thread of life divine.

Great Architect! How wondrous are Thy ways,

Who hid’st the heavens in a speck of dust!

Thy silent wonders fill my soul with praise,

And teach my wandering heart a deeper trust.

For though our beginnings be small and low,

Bound in the darkness where the mosses grow,

Within each seed a mighty spirit lies—

An endless soul destined to touch the skies.

12/03/2012