Where the great sages
Where now I sit,
A humble scribble.
Rest with the holy men
And look to the stars.
Of the soul,
And begging bowls.
One and Many Faces
Within the calmest chamber of my heart, I found you sleeping;
Truth flowered from your eyes.
Locked in your gaze I remained breathless
And in your arms I gladly died.
Lost in the depths of love, guided by an inner bride,
May we merge these senses, make these revolutions shine.
Our silent dance now roars, engulfs all suffering;
Shatters illusory doors, floating on this conscious stream.
On the backs of Gods we ride, pilgrims ever set for salvation;
Beyond the temples of twisted mind, all one and many faces.
A Jungle Waterfall
Fanned by the flame of infinite
Destiny; we are naturally cursed and blessed.
Hung in the cauldron of uncertainty, envy grips sincerity.
Crude words blot the page,
Sorrow is the cause
For the mountain orchids speak.
There is a formless forest guru, teak carved and polished clear;
As a tiger stalks and kills, this wooden soul would sit.
Just an old stone wasting no time at all; tendrils for toes, ascending with
Nature. A rare breed with cloud-like constitution.
Given to an internal voyage, of Syrius he claimed soul form.
Now fully merged and fresh ash smeared, elephant hide wrapped tight to his ribs,
His three eyes stare at unity, directly.
Deep in the forest, lungs lined with early morning dew,
He talks only with tiny birds and hears of the coming rains.
Living out the depths of truth, where existence is the nectar,
A bliss filled concentration of effortless implication.
This heart a humble furnace, the nameless sage
Who charges the Himalayas with stillness,
A tranquil quake of focused purity.
In early day the mist has come,
Trees are stirring.
There is a deep well of beauty,
Still in time.
I hear the river fall
From the centre of the morning sun;
To disappear forever,
In silent, silent song.
From out of the void,
A mandala, a body;
Something visible where the mind may feast
These fragments of burning candles,
The taste to realize;
Sweet mango, fresh chai.
Rest easy in this celestial session,
Loving all, excluding nought.
All religions written in the mental sky.
When it clears, expose the vast light of truth.
Infinite the beatitude, god is nothing to fear.
Finer energies exist here, higher powers
We may touch; that we are.
Sleepless and nestled in the mothers arms.
Safe to tread the path riding white swans,
Here or There
Here or there; a fantastic meander,
Wild elephants in fields of sunflowers.
At odds with the love we are,
We are sleeping to make new days.
Yet all night our lamp
Still burns with grace.
The valley leading to Rishikesh
Extracts from a collection written in Rishikesh, India, January ’14