The word ‘Wadalay’ signifies the morning, in everyday terms, whilst‘Ludalay’ is the corresponding eventide. Transcendently the ‘Big’ time of newbornmorn, is the Macrocosm or Being, created out of Nothingness. It is contained innowhere else, as completely, as within a single unselfish teardrop, noble drop of salinity to contain entirety. That ‘Gumbad-e-Minai’ of Allama Iqbal; The upturnedWine Goblet of the external universe wherein the lonely cry from a broken heartrebounds unto the crier after having traveled the vast and empty expanses, toreturn at ‘Ludalay’, the ‘Small’ time of Realization! The Microcosm re-visitedupon ‘An Evening Gloaming’. When the Herds do return to the manger and thefold to rest and masticate the day’s forage in the peace and contentment of wholeness. This can only be true if the Shepard is watchful of the moments in thedarkness of the stillborn night.When the ‘Savages’, with pretensions to ‘Civilization’ have rent thegarment of piety and trampled the languages that rose out of the ashes of existence like the legendary phoenix to uplift the drab and everyday of life untothe sublime.“Arise and tune the harp of Brotherhood.Give us back the cup of the wine of Love!”When even a single couplet from the lips of the immortal ‘Sufi Sages’holds more real meaning than the entire literature of existentialism. The pain of loss is compounded once the very realization of what we have lost, perhapsirrevocably, is itself lost. The gentle religion of ‘Love’ that lies broken at our feet.To be replaced with a harsh and stern frustration that is unaware of the reason of its plight. When the strident overwhelms the soft notes from the lute of forgiveness and tolerance; When lengthening shadows are no longer held inabeyance by the flickering lamp that consumes itself in order to bring luminanceto the shadow underworld of the '’Nafs-e-Ammara', the Commanding Self, thatbase coward that lurks within the creeping shadows of the stillborn night!“Che Kunam kay Fitrat-e-Mun.Dar-e-EenJah Na Sazad!Dil-e-Na Sabur Darum.