In the tuneless world of mine
There I get a ring
Maybe just an ordinary ring
But from an extraordinary source.
The call from the one
It’s not just a call, it’s a moment
Similar to the first ray of sun
Entering through your window.
My once silent heart
Finds its rhythm again
In the sound of a voice
That knows how to reach me.
It isn’t the words
But the presence of someone
The breath of someone
On the other side of the call.
And suddenly,
I am reminded
That joy doesn’t knock loudly
Sometimes, it just calls.
awake from darkness,
in chains,he feels the cold grip-
numbness fades to pain.
"Gardens must now go to sleep until spring comes back around." Quote By Poet
Springtime is coming with the sleepy flowers awaking.
Line of enquiry.
It’s not desire per say but the clinging ~
that stifles soul and stops heart from singing
enlivening silence sets our soul free ~
vibrant in the now, joyful and carefree”
Phantoms of constant fog create a zombie state of existence,
feeling worthless, your barriers offer demons no resistance.
Thoughts drift into a hazy labyrinth of toxic wilderness,
you're wide awake, but the mind's sleeping in fields of bitterness.
Dark shadows of silhouettes in shrouds start to frighten,
so you search for stimulation, for your eyes to enlighten.
To hush these' car crash' carnage echoes of violence,
soul seeks refuge away from ego to master silence.
To wander under blue sunny skies with caffeine clarity.
To cleanse in waterfalls that lead to principles of purity.
When you no longer dance with the Devil's temptations,
serenades of resurrection release suppressed frustrations.
Spirit soars, humming the repetition of a sweet refrain,
as you break away from the monotony of past pain.
In the muteness of stillness the heart learns to let go,
flourishing like the first daffodil after months of snow.
I ran here and I raced there
All the time, all places, anywhere,
As if possessed I was adamant
and rested not even for a moment.
I had the riches and all the fun
Basking under a robust sun,
I knew despair nowhere
and reaped joy everywhere.
I needed none to lend me a hand
Nor by my side to stand,
No shoulder I sought upon to cry
There was no task I would not try,
To grab wealth I would not shy
Nor faltered ever to cheat or lie,
With unfettered passion to win
I forsook my own kith and kin.
Favored by fate, I was awestruck
until Time’s heavy hand struck
and pulled me out of my stupor
saving me from making a grim blooper.
My body gave up the strife,
My spirit longed for a quiet life—
But Life turned its back on me
Oh, my folly it made me see...
He who is at peace with his share
Leaving the worldly woes in God's care,
He who is driven not by his whim
Happy is he, life is good to him.
Eyes wide opened towards the light
Day is high and sun is bright
And the feeling's great mystery
Is still fresh in my memory
Heaven's touch in a state of dream
Like soaring high on skyline seam
But forever, I just can't dine
In the solace of black sweet wine
Time has come for dreams to be real
To brave the hurt of pain I feel
Bondage heaven can't give a gain
Just an escape from the pouring rain
Our consciousness can be trapped in a rut
of following paths so sadly worn out.
From gladness to sadness, hearts are somewhat,
together with souls, from joy turned about-
in trampling new seeds to wake up and sprout.
With deep meditation, the soul is set free
to put back in order, through silent rest-
the spiritual goals that oft turn the key
to waken our hearts and souls to be blessed
with new vibrant paths that restore life's zest.
AWAKING FROM STUPOR
Tell me please, who am I
Why does the room spin
But why can I not move
Something is very wrong
And my mouth is so dry
Are all these walls white
And look kind of padded
I must be sedated, or was
My head aches really bad
If I shout, will they come
Ah yes, I’ll remain quiet
Tell me please, who am I
Money and mundane mammon have been our constant comfort.
Elegance and embellishments have been our companions.
Towards luxuries was the focus of all our efforts.
As though atheists, do we care for saintly opinions?
Attachment is clutching us in its crude crocodile hold.
Though, in truth, like parrot emeralds, aren’t we in gold cages?
We want to sing aloud and fly around, but we’re controlled.
It seems as though our enslavement will last for endless ages.
Shouldn’t our souls gain freedom and attain eternal bliss?
Shouldn’t our beings integrate with the Supreme Being?
Contemplation and good deeds could we, hence, afford to miss?
Could our eyes ever sleep without his hope guaranteeing?
From unconsciousness to consciousness, our souls should advance.
Isn’t our existence here on earth a mere transhumance?
So here we are, within this lucid dream
appearing to have free will, though not true
for we control not images that do stream
even as pulse of our heart does renew
Our scope of action is type of response
emoted to the fall of the hammer
wherein optimal choice is nonchalance
standing erect in a soulful manner
Upon ceasing to react, dream sequence ends
since there remains in our heart, no desire
our lower mind to will of Gods does bend
love divine being all that we aspire
Oh hermit, please stand still, ceasing to sway
through day and night, as we devoutly pray
09-July-2021
Delusion using imagination
Reflections of attention enlivens
Arising from differentiation
Polarisation has stillness shaken
Inversion of awareness so looking
Pausing thus awhile to assimilate
Stretches time itself, whilst so stagnating
Ego spawned bubbles thereby co-creates
Dreamed not knowing that it is the dreamer
Searches for itself amidst illusions
No one else may awake it from stupor
Until exhaustion ushers cessation
06-June-2021
Space flickers, something shifts, invisibly
Receptor in form, feels the reflection
The happening instant, magically
Shadows come alive, by resonation
Dreams within dreams, mirroring our desire
Bubbles therein, too fleeting to capture
The movie plays on, as we did aspire
Clear light concealed, owing to our stupor
Myriad objects spawning new mind games
Noumenon birthing all phenomena
Weaving a maya web, our claim to fame
Until love innate, erases stigma
Cessation the way, to delusion shake
Vaporising, that the object awakes
16-March-2021
Plunged into dream life of our choosing
We are hypnotised by shadows therein
Enmeshed in desires and thus stagnating
Senses dead to throb of bliss ignition
How may we awake from this amnesia
A question for which there seems no answer
Scriptures too dwell upon this enigma
Yet no magic wand appears nor saviour
Self help then, we shift into calm tranquil
Silence and stillness in the void vibrant
Wherein throb of bliss is Gods miracle
Pristine presence to each pulse sentient
Dreamer and dreamed must merge to become one
Knowing instant if ego urge undone
14-November-2020
How may we awake
being the object dreamed by the dreamer
tied to the ego stake
how may we align to be one with the creator
The clues do abound
in the pulsation of each heartbeat & breath
in stupor we are bound
serpentine ego retaining doership in stealth
Choosing to vaporise
melting into the vibrant void in total surrender
with no ego left to size
we then be to become essence of the wonder
It is our reflex instinct
resonating with love allowing no lower vibration
in hues of bliss inked
unbroken awareness continuum our meditation
This samadhi state
wherein jiva & Atma & Paramatma become one
as bliss within elates
no difference remains between He & we his son
13-September-2020
There is a language barrier being created
adopted and fostered by social media
controlling certain dialect from surfacing
kept down with bad manners treasonous acts with character
Governing bodies has signed the soul of democracy away
to address another human life form rubbished neologism
Firstly a status of hate filled pride needs to be brought into account here
to alter facts and grammar suiting a wicked agenda correction
This has no value when examined for what's right and just
silence is no longer a tool of the innocent party
when powered to speak with lawful manners
from the wool of a Lamb knitted into a soul
the Lion will roar within this arena
Words are enslaved put in chains by bigots
backwards justice in the end will fail terribly
because the finger and pulse will always point out
The truth from deep within a person's heart
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