Poems

children’s vision

give me back my children’s vision
to see the world anew –
colored pebbles, playful butterflies!
timeless age that this soul knew.

Childhood captures a rare dimension that is a doorway into eternity. Children don’t think about yesterday or tomorrow, they live in a continuous moment where everything is always fresh. As we become adults, worries, regrets and too much mind analysis obscure that child-like spontaneity, and we soon forget what joyful living is all about. May the exuberance of childhood always stay with you!

Poems

i am the space

I am the space where
life goes forth her myriad motions
and death recedes with quiet devotion.

‘Orange Pink Rose’, Paul Militaru

Life is a progressive, outward movement. It develops like a flower blossom. From the bud, we can never imagine its mature stage.
In death, we go inwards. Movement ceases. A time of rest and assimilation.

Poems

let us meet again

let us meet again
when we have no need
of names
in an ageless time
in a wordless space
I will know you
for your burning, inner blaze.
let us be at last
as rivers of devotion
merging
into the greater ocean
as we remember
we have never been apart.

Time and space, thoughts and words, these are constructs which allow us to navigate this material world. They apply to the relative, but not to the absolute. When time and space dissolve, words are not necessary as no separation exists.

Poems

friends with both

today I may laugh with life,
tomorrow I may lay with death.
I’m friends with both
and cannot decide
for whom to wear the better dress.

How would you feel, knowing that there is no death? The body may perish, but the body without you is an empty shell. The thoughts may cease, but do you stop existing when you stop thinking? Of course not. You are probably more peaceful then.
And here you are, being aware of both your body and your thoughts, knowing “I Am”.

That awareness is You. Everything there is comes out of that space, like waves shaping on the surface of the ocean. You are the ocean that knows no birth nor death. Rest in it. 🌷🙏

Poems

to the Padmanabhaswamy Temple

what secrets are you hiding,
behind well-guarded doors,
riches, treasures, wisdom?
forgotten timeless lore.
silent temple, ancient temple
unlocked by purest chant alone.

Padmanabhaswamy Temple

Words are powerful because vibration is powerful. In Christianity, the world was created by Logos. In Hinduism, the Om is the secret name of god. The moment we verbalize something out loud, we give more power to the thought.

In India, the ancient Padmanabhaswamy Temple (vault B) has a secret door that is has no bolts, latches or any other means of entry. It is said to house unimaginable wealth, and can only be entered by a high level Sadhu (Holy man) with the knowledge of chanting a ‘Guruda Mantra’- the holiest of mantras.

It is believed that the door was sealed shut by sound waves from a secret chant lost in time, and can only be opened by the same means.

Hindu priests say that at present, there is no human capable of opening this door by executing these chants.

Poems

open your eyes

open your eyes 
this world is alive
with a heart of its own
that longs for your return
eyes bright as stars in the night
sun’s glow pours below
its golden love.
come home!
through your body, in your breath
all the wisdom flows.
you are the creation that knows.

art by Josephine Wall

This world is made to awaken us to our true vastness. The world is not pre-determined, it is not an inanimate clockwork. It is organic, alive and leading us into deeper being, if we only pay attention.

Poems

elusive partner

sometimes we dance
this elusive partner
showing up at will and
filling me with thrills
of illumination…
seize her and she disappears.

Moments of spiritual insight are elusive, and impossible to describe. When they appear, we are filled with delight. But the moment we try to grasp them, they are already miles away.

Poems

chained in dreams

chained in dreams of love and pain
and multiplicity of names,
deceiving Maya
stop your deluding game!
I want to see my one true face.

The concept of Maya, or illusion, is at the heart of many spiritual traditions. The idea that this life, the material plane, is not the ultimate reality. Everything here changes constantly, and we cannot hold on to anything. Life is as ephemeral as the dreams we dream at night.

Who is dreaming all this? What is aware of the change?

“Human beings actually have no more independence or autonomy in living their lives than do the characters in a dream. Neither do they have anything to do with the creation of the dream or anything in it. 
They are simply being lived along with everything else in this living dream of the manifested universe. The entire dream is unreal. Only the dreamer is real, and that is Consciousness itself.” -Ramesh Balsekar