When I am laid upon that last bed of woodWhen I am ledto the cremation groundLet some soul remainso long as they chant Your namethat I may still hearthe sweet, sweet sound again
Category: God
Homecoming
In the room of the soulshining a light,was the name of God.Guilt crouched in a cornerand looked up in shame... But found only loveWhere pain and grief sobbed as heartbeatsThe name soundeda song so sweet,they danced in respiteDeeper withinas embers seething, angerwas seen- and unwatered,bathed cool by the light...for there was only loveTo greed and… Continue reading Homecoming
Bhasmā
We sit atop the mountainBreath, one with the icy Himalayan breezepuffing away the pipeSilence, beauty, warmthof each soul one with GodPraying for the salvation of these burning logsNamaḥ Pārvatī Patayé Har Har MahādevAs if Mahéshwarā Himself has come to chant...to dance the destruction dancewe all love
Kaliyuga
Scene: A young, scholarly priest walks past the banks of the holy Ganga, as a pale yellow evening settles. Visibly brooding, he takes no notice of the sights and greetings around him, and makes straight for home, where, laying the plain jute satchel of books atop a wooden desk, he pulls out a loosely bound one and begins to write, just as the early eastern skies begin to darken.
The Beginning
"In the beginning was the..."
The Mountains We Carry
They say that when God calls you to where he dwells, there is no force- physical or emotional, that can keep you from answering that call. They call it, Bulawa. You've been informed that the oxygen levels will drop with the altitude. You watch the people in line get rejected one by one, on account… Continue reading The Mountains We Carry
I am silence
I believe in ash in the flameless residueblowing as dustthrough Your fluteI believe in dark eyeshollowed by crying centuries of memory and bodiesthrough and of YouI believe in the spiritthat floats by saints and soulswhere loved ones dwellrenewedI believe in YouNow, too tired to even prayThis breath, a stone in the chestThe heart a muffled… Continue reading I am silence
हर हार हरि का द्वार
अब और क्या आंसू बहाऊं, अब और किसे पुकारूं...जब सब मुखौटे ही रण पर गिर पड़े, और मैं, शहीदों की तरह जलते हुए अपनी ही चिता को राख में बदलते देख ना करु कुछ महसूस…सिवाए इस वायु के…सिवाए उस डमरू के…सिवाए तेरे शंखों की गूंज?
The blind beggar
Many will stray, not recognising the beggar when he comes to them. Some will turn him out; others walk past. Some be spelled as long as they hear his soulful song- and, believing him blind, believing they see better- carry on... as he carries on.
Let me as Wilde’s nightingale be…
I sing to you, my fatherEvery praise, every tear, every verseLet me as Wilde's nightingale be...In kind, innocent, honesty sing,and with the pain it bringsbe more like you.Leavethe purest red rose, as the generous thorn of sufferingbleeds me so completeI'm all soulFinally Home, at your feet ©

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