Gayatri

GAYATRI : THE DIVINE ENERGY OF THE VEDAS

The twilight spoke
and the hour of Gayatri stepped in
to open the portals everywhere.
The light spread
on the hills and lakes
in the valleys, and the crests
of the trees swayed.

The voice began to be heard :
"The chariot of Gayatri arrives.
it's riding on the path; make way.
It's the light of the divine understanding of life;
It dawns in your deepest mind
as the soul; your soul,
the light of which you share with the Divine.
It's the energy divine, leading you across the seven realms.
It's the vibration of the harp when the harp is touched
by the winds of another life.
It pierces the rings that guard  the six centers
of the energy stored in the portals of your body.

Know that the secret of the fear
is there in the fatigue of the mind and the body.
Never lose sight of the divine mind,
the consciousness that guards your being.

The sky will transmit to you the divine light,
and be aware of the moment then;
accept it and receive in the coolness of the heart.
for the light can dazzle if the mind is not right.

Suffering and comfort are the forms of life, not the targets.
The mind gives them a base, a foundation
and calls them yours and mine.

The hour of twilight holds a meaning;
it's an hour of farewell,
and welcome too,
for the heart has stopped its swaying with winds;
in this hour the heart is still;
your shadow lies close to your feet, or completely beneath.
The dimensions of nature grow beyond the world that you know and see
with the physical eye and the body.
The mind transcends all boundaries,
and in the transit, you will see
a numberless auras of light
standing witness to your flight.

When you aim at finding pleasure and joy
what you get is pain,
and all through the passage of infinite time
your Timeless Soul stands witness to your plight.

There comes once in your life
this hour of twilight, the hour of Gayatri
and the truth shines
in a moment :
the moment of reckoning when the darkness melts.

Live in these moments of utter simplicity;
and you will live in the shade of your friendly soul;
at every step he will be your protector and guide.

This secret of Divinity, once grasped and internalized,
will keep you awake, you will never forget it even in your sleep.
,

In Courtesy To A Flower Myth

In Celebration Of Flower Myth

Under the mounds of sand and clay
the ground broke.
the pianist's fingers lightly touched
and then glided across the board.
the tall pines and oaks
shivered in the sheer thrill.
Somewhere near their feet
a little bulb
of energy and light
was breaking the rim of the wholesome earth, and the earth was celebrating
a birth of a life
Tenderness incarnate bristled forth
on a defiant fragile note
a little stem carried a little bud,
shaded and folded between two little leaves,
and inside its heart lay a bed of dormant seeds,
a bed of pollen waiting for the fingers of the sun
to force open their secret deed and cast to the wind ,
the thousand seeds with tousled hair.
Away into another land, under another sky,
on a dark fortnight with an absent moon
a seed will go to sleep
until another fortnight will stir it out of sleep.
In another part of the earth the pianist's notes will sing and blend
the blue with the white and another flower bloom.
The myth of the flower will break its code.





Image Courtesy Anna del Valle Marti


Paul Klee   "Flower Myth"
 

A COMPANION SUCH AS THIS

A COMPANION SUCH AS THIS



A COMPANION SUCH AS THIS

Two horsemen rode on the hill,
caught in the beat of the horse's hooves
and the desire raging in the restive heart of one
who rode behind, a laggard on the way uphill,
as the rider in the front goaded his horse to trudge and gallop, all at once.

The wilderness forced its way,
spread over the hill and the valley,
found its secret path
into the heart of the rider and the horse.
Everything was a call to stay
and tap the doors,
feel the deadly cold of the steel lock,
a lock that had forgotten how to open.

Forced tears were never the way
 to open rusted locks such as these.
The rider laughed a sardonic laugh
and the lock gave way and broke..
and the negative markers on the door
suddenly revealed the code.

The wilderness listened,
the heart listened
and the horse welcomed the pause.
The melody the wilderness sang was not a thunderous song.
It floated in the breeze, stirred the leaves,
whispered a roadmap into the ears of the horse
and the horse, a dumb creature that could not follow,
kept it locked in his heart.

stamping and fuming
was all that the horse could do.
On a foggy morning this was all
that the rider in the front could see.
The journey downhill, treacherous,
in need of the trust of the horse,
and the valley calling;
the wilderness of the hill,
the horse of the laggard tied to a branch of the tree;
the rider in front will never reach
the place he wanted to reach
with a companion such as this
with a companion such as this.
SUSHAMA KARNIK

Once A Tree

ONCE A TREE

Once a tree, now a stag with many horns,
,once a celebration of green,
now another emergent form
the tree is eternal, a miracle, invigoration,
once erect, now prostrate,
and yet its bark speaks
of a saga risen from earth,
and its branches pushing a trail
of energy, undying strength,
a transmigrating soul,
forever in gratitude bound to earth

Image Courtesy Kostas Michalis

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WHAT IS IN A MYTH?

What's In A Myth?

The morning brought dew-drops
and several suns
multiplied
and dropped their images in every petal ,
clinging lightly at the end
and the petals held them the longest they could;
after all they were meant to be suspended between the night and the dawn, ready to drop any moment when the leaf and the petal stood heavy with the weight of love they could bear no longer.

Eyes, there are eyes everywhere if you would care to see.
Eyes in the dew, in the grass blades that shine
in the petals and the leaves.
They are all your eyes,
looking at me wherever I go,
to the sea or sky or the river,
to the mountains, the plains and the fields of grass.
Their shadows spread like the shadows in the woods;
their nuances deepen like the voices in a dream.

It's not love ordinary;
it's an invitation to partake
in the synergy of the flow;
a hint to follow till the horizon's end' till the sky's space that never ends;
reminding : life begins always at the edge of everything that seems to have come to an end.

THE RAIN MUST COME

Sushama Karnik originally shared:

 

THE RAIN MUST COME
The rain must come and complete the round
of falling and filling in the broken ring ,
the missing link that causes the miracle,
that restores order, the symbols the earth had given to man,
the images the rain had promised the sea,
and the script that needs to be read again
for the child who would watch, unable to speak,
of the miracle the sound would bring back,  life,
the miracle of the sound of the impossible,
the sound of the simple brotherhood that unites the dreams which this planet was given to nurture for the child.
The child knows nothing of the hatred that kills ,
nothing of the weapons that are marketed
in the place of the old discarded dreams.
He knows only the perverted magician
who barters on the counter, to whisk away the dreams as rusted lamps
and replaces them with weapons of trauma
and installs a monster that redefines hunger, power and war and peace
The rain must come and cover the child
standing beneath this bleak sky
that has forgotten the memory of the rain