The Monk of Aeons

O thy divine flame till eternity must burn, Thine thoughts each mortal on crust must learn. Servest thou each bruised heart in trepidation, And allurest thou 'em all to peachy innovation. For, know not one but thy thought's abyss, Where the cosmos dwells and dreams in bliss. The whirling winds and dark nights dreary, All in thou bide; with hearts too blithe & cheery. The lambent silhouette off skies and clouds, Zillion miles afar; beyond narcissistic crowds, The Godly power still thru' chaste souls rein, And blooms o'er branches on moorlands green. The divine knowledge of oneness speaks, Oft thru' tides or the bird that squeaks, Sometimes as a beast's howling outcry, Or as the buzzing melody of a little fly. Tis "Thou" who bides in e'ery soul that breathes in joy, And bides in 'em whose demeanour is still too coy. In e'ery mind that sees the world in varied hues, Tis thou glimpse that shines agleam as winter dews. Consciousness thrives in hush midst bustling days, And glints from eyes as the bright'st sun with aureate rays. Thru' the profound world of souls and frothy lives; Thine gleaming gloriole ubiquitously thrives. O chaste soul of eternity! Let thy glory this world enfold, Let each soldier serve his land with an ebullience that's ne'er cold, Let conscious choices rein in green attires, And thine world but be a paradise sans dark desires. © Dipanjan Bhattacharjee