The Journey on the raft
Playing with the tumultuous waves,
Being winnowed by the gushing wind,
Surrounded by the endless ocean,
So wide, you can’t get around it,
So deep, you can’t get under it,
Simoni plays the tune of life,
On the harp of his ores!
Some call it life,
Some call it coincidence,
Some call it a meaningless charade.
What it is in real, Simoni does not know.
And feels it futile to even attempt to know.
For time is short, and the art is long!
The art of being alive,
Meditating on each moment,
Going deep into the suchness of each second,
Keenly listening to each breath,
Feeling each throb of the heart,
Carried on the boat of the breath,
Across the limitless and unpredictable ocean!
He does not know where he is headed to,
He does not know when the journey shall end,
All that he knows is he has to keep rowing,
He has to know – All from beginning,
Back to school, again over again,
Since thousands of yester births,
To thousands in future!
In the passion to really know,
To really be, to observe and be aware
Of the stillness beyond the apparent entropy.
To discover the invisible thread
Connecting the dots of the countless
Turns, swirls, ebbs and flow.
Some say it is all preordained.
Some say it is just an indifferent nature.
Some say it is the causation of your actions.
Some say it is the Big Father in white beard,
Up in the sky controlling all.
Simoni has come out all alone,
In the midst of the storm,
With his bosom exposed to the lightning,
His sinews hardened with the fighting the waves,
Every moment through his art.
He is to discover the suchness of the ocean,
By his own heart and soul.
He is out to create his own poem,
With his own understanding of the ocean.
Going along finds he,
Glittering islands,
Colorful mermaids,
Bountiful ships.
All playing beautiful tunes,
Frolics, dances, activities all around.
All vie for his attention.
All want him to come to rest,
In the ease of the slumber of their fraternity
Of determinate answers,
To all the existential questions.
Through their borrowed ideologies and beliefs!
Simoni keeps rowing,
Going deep within,
Acknowledging his amazement,
At the flowering of events all around,
Shaping his destiny,
All coordinating with each other,
His efforts and actions,
The invisible mystery,
All working hand in hand,
Creating this wonderful tapestry of his existence!
He wants to see the mystery
In his own eyes,
Feel it with his own hands,
Reflect upon it with his own find,
Love it with his own heart.
He keeps rowing,
Undaunted by the tribulations,
The failures and pain.
He does not know where he is heading,
Nor he knows from where he comes.
He just knows one thing,
To chip away the non-essentials,
Carving this sculpture of his life,
Expressing only the truth!
It is the truth what he has to find out,
By his own, with his mind, heart and soul,
Guided by the masters of posterity,
And the Elders of his time.
He knows he is another link
In the invisible string of life,
Extending from the eternity,
Heading to the eternity.
He knows his sculpture of truth,
Is not for himself.
Rather it is for the links coming tomorrow,
The links who carve their own sculpture,
Better and more beautiful than ever.
Simoni knows he has to just act,
With all devotion, humility, and finesse!
He knows all his toils, pains, and strivings,
Are his offerings to that Source,
The Source of all the Mystery!
He gets the glimpse of that unknowable Mystery,
Sometimes as an incredible coincidence,
Sometimes as a gasping beauty,
Sometimes as a venerated intuition,
Sometimes as just a simple purity of stillness.
He knows the Mystery is unfathomable.
He knows his life is just a wavelet,
Amidst the roaring giant waves,
In the shore less ocean all around.
He keeps rowing,
Meditating towards chipping away,
Illusions one after another,
With the chisel of his mind, heart and soul,
Sharpened with intuition, intelligence and grace.
He keeps on with is work,
Still, concentrated, and un-wavered.
No storm can move him out,
From his deep meditation.
Amongst all these actions,
All these struggles,
He is mystically at peace.
For him all flow in a divine harmony!
As the orchestra in resonance,
As the nature!
Doing the yoga of his Karma,
Not enchanted with the outcome,
He keeps on with his work,
One-sighted, unmoved, and still.
Rowing his boat,
Knowing the mystery,
One level after another!
______________________________________________
Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar
Playing with the tumultuous waves,
Being winnowed by the gushing wind,
Surrounded by the endless ocean,
So wide, you can’t get around it,
So deep, you can’t get under it,
Simoni plays the tune of life,
On the harp of his ores!
Some call it life,
Some call it coincidence,
Some call it a meaningless charade.
What it is in real, Simoni does not know.
And feels it futile to even attempt to know.
For time is short, and the art is long!
The art of being alive,
Meditating on each moment,
Going deep into the suchness of each second,
Keenly listening to each breath,
Feeling each throb of the heart,
Carried on the boat of the breath,
Across the limitless and unpredictable ocean!
He does not know where he is headed to,
He does not know when the journey shall end,
All that he knows is he has to keep rowing,
He has to know – All from beginning,
Back to school, again over again,
Since thousands of yester births,
To thousands in future!
In the passion to really know,
To really be, to observe and be aware
Of the stillness beyond the apparent entropy.
To discover the invisible thread
Connecting the dots of the countless
Turns, swirls, ebbs and flow.
Some say it is all preordained.
Some say it is just an indifferent nature.
Some say it is the causation of your actions.
Some say it is the Big Father in white beard,
Up in the sky controlling all.
Simoni has come out all alone,
In the midst of the storm,
With his bosom exposed to the lightning,
His sinews hardened with the fighting the waves,
Every moment through his art.
He is to discover the suchness of the ocean,
By his own heart and soul.
He is out to create his own poem,
With his own understanding of the ocean.
Going along finds he,
Glittering islands,
Colorful mermaids,
Bountiful ships.
All playing beautiful tunes,
Frolics, dances, activities all around.
All vie for his attention.
All want him to come to rest,
In the ease of the slumber of their fraternity
Of determinate answers,
To all the existential questions.
Through their borrowed ideologies and beliefs!
Simoni keeps rowing,
Going deep within,
Acknowledging his amazement,
At the flowering of events all around,
Shaping his destiny,
All coordinating with each other,
His efforts and actions,
The invisible mystery,
All working hand in hand,
Creating this wonderful tapestry of his existence!
He wants to see the mystery
In his own eyes,
Feel it with his own hands,
Reflect upon it with his own find,
Love it with his own heart.
He keeps rowing,
Undaunted by the tribulations,
The failures and pain.
He does not know where he is heading,
Nor he knows from where he comes.
He just knows one thing,
To chip away the non-essentials,
Carving this sculpture of his life,
Expressing only the truth!
It is the truth what he has to find out,
By his own, with his mind, heart and soul,
Guided by the masters of posterity,
And the Elders of his time.
He knows he is another link
In the invisible string of life,
Extending from the eternity,
Heading to the eternity.
He knows his sculpture of truth,
Is not for himself.
Rather it is for the links coming tomorrow,
The links who carve their own sculpture,
Better and more beautiful than ever.
Simoni knows he has to just act,
With all devotion, humility, and finesse!
He knows all his toils, pains, and strivings,
Are his offerings to that Source,
The Source of all the Mystery!
He gets the glimpse of that unknowable Mystery,
Sometimes as an incredible coincidence,
Sometimes as a gasping beauty,
Sometimes as a venerated intuition,
Sometimes as just a simple purity of stillness.
He knows the Mystery is unfathomable.
He knows his life is just a wavelet,
Amidst the roaring giant waves,
In the shore less ocean all around.
He keeps rowing,
Meditating towards chipping away,
Illusions one after another,
With the chisel of his mind, heart and soul,
Sharpened with intuition, intelligence and grace.
He keeps on with is work,
Still, concentrated, and un-wavered.
No storm can move him out,
From his deep meditation.
Amongst all these actions,
All these struggles,
He is mystically at peace.
For him all flow in a divine harmony!
As the orchestra in resonance,
As the nature!
Doing the yoga of his Karma,
Not enchanted with the outcome,
He keeps on with his work,
One-sighted, unmoved, and still.
Rowing his boat,
Knowing the mystery,
One level after another!
______________________________________________
Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar
No comments:
Post a Comment