Monday, April 27, 2015

Absence and Love

What is love other than forgiveness for imperfection?
And where is imperfection's root but in absence?
Will absence not then be love's greatest test ?
And demand the greatest sacrifice, that of being joyful?

Tabula Rasa


Shiva’s trident glitters gold
as the sun trickles over the Shivalik Hills
and a new day breaks over the Ganges.
The terrors of Terra’s trembling
toppling temples and towers in Kathmandu,
destroying lives and hopes, has left no marks
on the rising of the dawn.

A friend is incommunicado.

And here too a minor earthquake
in the liminal spot between one paradigm and another
the shifting of a tectonic plate
that has been rubbing and grumbling for far too long.
Inner houses and temples, beliefs and attachments
so sturdy in semblance, crumble once again.

A companion has become incommunicado,
unavailable to touch or sense or mind.

Do we build anew, or do we remain in the blissful
open air? Why build again that which only crumbles?
What are we going to write now
on the few blank pages that remain
in the book of Thanatos?

Saturday, April 18, 2015

Rasa Magic

You cannot treat Harikatha or Harinam
the way you treat the words or mind.
As a ping pong ball of dodging battled thoughts.

Words to bypass that trickster's what we need to find,
we're searching for the sound that catapults
us into ras. That is where you leave the words behind.

And rasa magic then transforms our every word
from heard millions of times to never heard,
.

Friday, April 10, 2015

We are not scientists

The minutiae of creation, science, and that which lies beyond it.
The big bang, the single point of light, the nada-bindu.
The expansion of space, creating space first into which to expand.
All for the manifestation of what? Rasa.

Our field of knowledge is different. We are from the world
and the wheres and ways of creation to us irrelevant,
except as a curiosity. We are gopi girls, simpletons,
milkmaids who know nothing but the beauty of our beau.

Our field of study is different. We study the human life
of which love is the apex. We say the world is real,
not reduced to pinpoints of light, but to archetypes.
Life as it existed and exists in the pinpoint, beyond the pinpoint
in the highest of archetypal realities. A reality
that only needs the acquiescence of the mind to be true.

Our world of transcendence is that of our romantic imaginings.