The Love Laden Eyes

Beauty is visible only to
The love laden eyes.
For love cleanses and shows the truth.
Without love, all beauty is undone!

From the blind darkness
Of the potential in the womb,
Redeemed is the soul,
To behold the preciousness of the world -
Beauty and magnificence,
All visible through,
The love laden eyes.
Birthing to the sacred promise,
Of being human!

In the beginning was only love -
The only truth.
And then one soul lost herself to the other,
And was a creation in the womb -
Of a potential - of a possibility,
Of a promise of love renewed!

On this day auspicious,
Celebrates the world,
The cause of all what is so beautiful -
The stance of Motherhood -
The stand of love,
The stand of beauty,
The stand of truth!

The spirit of Simoni blesses all mothers -
The genesis of life, love and inspiration!
On this auspicious and holy day!

______________________________________________
Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

Beyond Right and Wrong

Beyond what is right,
And what is wrong -
There lies a valley pristine.
I will meet you there!

How simple it is to see through
And find faults, O Lord!
But isn't life not
A court for judgment?
Isn't it not at all,
An examination to pass?

For every sigh of Love,
Is nourished with the will
To suspend that disbelief,
To be blind to that shortcoming.
It is that poetic ardor,
To see the beloved as the Goddess.
Isn't every inspiration
An experiment with naive idealization?
Is not romantic fatalism,
The bedrock of a potent existence?

Sitting on the rock by the sea,
Simoni watches with amazement,
The love-making in the starry night,
Of the moon and the sea!
Had not the sea not even noticed
The blemishes of the moon?
Or might it not have
Created a romantic poetry
Out of the stuck stag in her,
Who is housed in its shyness
Of helpless and profound love?

As he plays the melody of love,
Through his gentle flute,
Simony spreads the symphony of Life,
Singing the voice of Beauty and Love,
Beyond what is right
And what is wrong!

____________________________________________
Copyright © Samrat Kar. KarConversations.

Destined to Love

Simoni sat on his shrine.
Was he meditating on his breath.
Thoughts from past,
Shallow and profound
Paid their visit unasked.
Like an old and bosom friend,
He welcomed them,
Made them feel comfortable,
And continued being one
With his breath.

The Sun, wind, rain and trees
The Earth, rivers, oceans and falls,
The songs, poems,
Equally the noise and discord,
All held Simoni amidst
Life's tapestry -
Alive in equanimity.

With all was Simoni in love!
All were special,
All were attractive
All were luscious.
For he knew,
The source of love and life,
Was not out there,
But very much within!
It was single and undivided,
The One.

Simoni was not destined
To be in love with just an aspect one.
But he was destined to be in love.
Just be in love.

For he knew the lady with the most beautiful eyes,
Shows up sometimes
As a silent and stoic canyon,
Or at times as the passionate and loud ocean.
Sometimes she is a pang of the most painful pain,
Or at times she is
Grace of healing love.
She is omnipresent all around,
Transcending time and space,
As the essence of life and love,
In forms innumerable and dissipated.

Meditating on the One truth,
The essence of his beloved,
Simoni continued his eternal journey,
To be in love,
In his sanctuary of meditation.

____________________________________
Copyright © All rights reserved. Samrat Kar.

God's Ardor

One step did Simoni take,
And came God running for his sake!

On the Pegasus white,
Galloped Simoni with Her in his arms.
Flying up, mingling with the clouds.
Simoni in his white robe
Was Zeus personified,
And She was Venus embodied!

Sun was golden and the breeze was warm.

All the nature was aroused to see Her beauty. 

The passing wind whispered in Simoni's ears, 

"I envy you, Zeus to have the woman,

With the most beautiful eyes, 

And the body of Gold in ur arms". 

Simoni was proud n grateful, 

But laughed at the naiveté of the wind,

For he knew she was not just a woman, 

Who was in his arms,

But the embodiment of the creation of own Love,

His own God - eternal and ephemeral!

Simoni continued galloping on the horse, 

Her silky hair kept winnowing,

Her luscious bosoms bouncing. 

All were excited in deep pleasure of passion,

The sky, moon, stars and the cosmos!

Her magical moans of fulfillment 

Mingled with the lovelorn wind, echoed all over. 

The sky was stunned to see this magnanimous spectacle on earth. 

The Earth was aroused in that extreme lustful scene. 

Simoni kept galloping and flew in the air. 

For the wind embraced the softness 

Of love within him. 

All fairies and Gods, were singing with pride and accomplishment! 

What an exquisite creation they beheld! 

They sat in penance reclaiming that power of love.

For they knew very well 

Her beauty is the artifact of their own potential!

For they showered the petals of their blessings, 

On Simoni, and Her, on the white Pegasus.

Galloped they, basking in the glory of that celestial love. 

Her magical voice reverberated all around 

Sanctifying the place holier in Her flamboyance. 

What a fantastic vision was it!

For It was a deep trance of Simoni's regular prayers,

To his Lord, his Art, his Love.

______________________________________________

Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

The Paper Doll

There stood the paper doll,
Afraid to be alive,
Scared to death would she be,
To risk the stance be throbbing with life,
For she knew then, death cannot be denied!

She remained  a paper doll,
Hidden, frigid and scared throughout,
With impeccable pleats and folds,
Not a drop of water to wet,
Not a speck of dust to be shed.
In the same way she was made,
She remained forever,
Immortal and unchanged!

Seeing the permanence of the youth,
The ever present shimmer,
The never ending glow,
All were attracted to
The paper doll, in a row.

Seeing the gathering of men, young and old,
All around the paper doll,
Simoni passed with a smile of disgust,
For he knew the impeccable shine,
Was death in disguise.

For Simoni knew,
It is not the flesh and form,
That makes one beautiful,
But the grace of activity
That one enters into,
That brings in the beauty,
As a grace ever fresh and new!

For beauty is not in the wings,
But in the flight.
The beauty is not in the mouth,
But in the voice.
The beauty is not in the breasts,
But in the promise of that inseparable warmth,
Of belonging and intimacy.
The beauty is not in the paper or the ink,
But in the poem from a beautiful mind!

People long for a cozy house,
And a palace by the sea,
To rest in peace!
But Simoni knew,
The heaven of peace is not out there,
But in an effort to create that sanctuary,
Out of art, knowledge, skill, efforts and wisdom!

The paper doll remained perfect.
But never could she know what beauty is,
Never could she know what love is.
For love and beauty are the poet's song,
Flowing in the wind of creative efforts.

It is in the handwork of the sweaty nomad life,
It is in the toil of the peasant in sunny fields,
It is in the meticulous chiseling of the sculptor -
Busy searching for his true love.
It is in the twinkle of the fiery star,
Burning in the fire of his love lost.

Simoni, kept walking to the dusky horizon,
He knew not where he was unto.
Only that he knew,
He was weaving a tapestry of Love,
Through his song,
Amidst that dreary desert sand -
Where nothing stayed forever,
But all got created anew,
In fresh promise of eternal love,
Ever youthful promise of eternal beauty!

______________________________________________
Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

The Silence of The Woods

Walking amidst the woods,
Simoni could hear
The fading in chirp of birds,

In the darkness after dusk,
The silence gradually devouring all the symphony,
In her lustful silencing embrace.

The music of the lazy river,
The whisper of the smooth wind,
They rest in each other's naked lap,
In that embrace of togetherness,
Voyeured earnestly by all the excited stars.

Such was the silvery deluge of that
Romantic moonlit touch.
Simoni was beginning to connect to all...


The untouched beauty of the
Pristine white lotus,
Stands amidst the cold indifferent pond,
Grounded unaltered
To the warmth of Love.


The black mountain
Mingles with the amorous sky in silence,
Surrendering all its might and pride,
Into the luscious embrace of her softness.


The moon radiating the glow of lovely charm,
Warms the bosom of the cold and frigid pond,
With the desire to be one, re-kindling that passion of lust.
It appeared as just a reflection.
But truth did only Simoni see -
Moon had descended all the way from heavens,
To be one with his love - the pond.
In the quietude of that fateful night.


All was so exquisite,
All was so heart whelming.
But Simoni noticed,
There was no word spoken anywhere.
Yes there was song, there was symphony, there was poetry!
But no words, no syllable no language!


All were in trance loving each other wildly,
There were no words,
But inarticulate cries, meaningless moans,
From the bottom of the most primitive being.
The squirting fountain of nectar of love was profuse, 

Straight from the sanctum of the depth of belly.
A piercing Joy was omnipresent,
Leaving all - 

Empty, Conquered and Silenced!
______________________________________________
Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

The Argument

Simoni's younger little self, pesters him,

That he quit!

For it is nothing but useless hankering 

To knock at thy door. 

Tired and hopeless is he,

Looking at the futility

Of the continuous song,

Of the unending expressions of his love.

He longs for his muse to love him back!

For the God to appear in front of his eyes!

Simoni, confronts his younger self,

Lovingly arguing against his stance,

Standing by the river Nile,

In his white robe,

Being washed by the silvery moon light.

He smiles and looks at the distant star,

and says, "If she loves you back, will you still be who you are?

Mimed will not be your song, if blessed by presence of her?

Probably you would win her,

But will not you lose something more precious?

The preciousness of your pain?"

But then the little self, revolts again, accusing back-

"you romanticize your defeat!"

Simoni, smiles again, gazing at that distant star,

Gives a passing remark, 

"Who knows what is defeat, and what victory is!"

In that profound solitude, 

Simoni, kept walking by the bank of the Nile,

In total surrender to the enigma

Of the suchness of creation.

Questions reverberated from all around,

Sky, Moon, Wind and the river cold,

All stared on to the eyes of Simoni, and asked,

"Why it is that we feel. Why it is that we are!"

In an effort to discover that missing part of the puzzle,

Simoni continued to walk,

By the bank of the Nile.

The ancient start, light years away,

Kept looking at Simoni,

And when he again looked at him,

And their eyes met each other,

Simoni could listen to that silent whisper

From the ancient seer star!

The star twinkles burning 

In the fire of his love.

All alone and abandoned 

In the vastness of the cosmos.

But continues he to twinkle,

Since eons passed by.

For that is what is his destiny.

He is a star after all. 

And he has to twinkle!

He has to burn!

Simoni knew his answer to his little self.

To sing his song was his destiny,

To love was his purpose! 

Went back he, in silence, 

Towards the feet of his God,

In total surrender.

The feet was his altar of love,

He built it with great care and art,

Since ages, one tune at a time, 

One syllable at at time,

Embellished by one song after the other!

The gap of pain between the Nile and the moon,

Was the space in which that beautiful night was created!

The same was the charm of the beauty,

Of the solitary abandonment of the star,

And the lonely journey of Simoni.

______________________________________________
Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

A Wish to God

Wishing u a yet another new beginning 

That aids you to be more fully 

What u are at core - bold n beautiful!
The grand existence, The Nature,
The Cosmic Self!

Wishes from this distant star
Twinkling in solitude millions of light years away
Might be unsolicited and unwanted,
But they r relevant for sure!

Grounded are they in that strong desire 

Of thine wellbeing and love
It is not that the beautiful rose
Needs the song of love.
Rather the bard needs to continue to sing,
For it is that keeps him alive.

My prayers are too a trifle for thine, O God.
But it is for myself I praise thee in my song.
It is the tune of your spirit
That breathes life in me and my song.

Ya, you are right,

Immaturity and insanity
By and large constitute the human condition.
I know u accept my madness and my follies...

Walking lonely in the desert,

Simoni sings his wishes to his God..
______________________________________________
Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

Affixed in her Penance

Silent and constant,
Affixed in her Penance,
Nature exists in all her grandeur!

Simoni does not know
For whom is the penance,
He does not know for whom is the longing!
But does he see,
That resoluteness in the silence profound,
Transfixed is Nature,
Affixed in her Penance.

She is quiet but is alive!
Through her closed eyes,
She sees the past, future along with the present.
With power of creation
Throbbing in her viens,
She stands there all powerful,
Feigning the silence of the surrendered!

At times being lost in pride,
Of his own creation,
Simoni derides Her,
Showing his indifference to her.
But the ego-driven haywire ride,
Stumbles Simoni down,
Soon to bring to his realization,
It is the will of Nature and not his own will,
That pervades!
She is quiet but is alive!

In the suchness of the creation,
Simoni now just surrenders and sits in observance,
He is just a clearing of Her will,
Through his work,
Trying hard to listen what She whispers,
Through the sound of his chisel on the marble of Life.

But Simoni does not know,

For whom is her penance, her longing, and her pride!

In the space of wonder and innocence,

Continues Simoni on his marble,

With his chisel and hammer.
______________________________________________
Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

Carving God out.

In every moment of being alive.
Simoni stays busy to carve God out,
In anything he thinks,
By anything he creates.

To him that is what is
His meaning to exist -
Unending effort to carve out the God,
From the marble slab of life!

The shouts of accolades
To him are meaningless,
For he knows that God was always there,
Only that the non essential
Was to be chipped away!
He is not the creator,
Rather just a means of expression,
Of what already exists!

Like an obedient servant,
Like a warrior of light,
Continues he to carve out,
Working relentlessly in his studio,
Carving out from the cold white marble,
Those passionate throbbing bosom of Life!

Her eyes are the most beautiful,
But entwined in its shine,
Are the shades of dark and light.
It is not all that is joyous,
For most part is melancholy, indifferent or routine.
But in the the interplay of contradictions,
Thrives the over aching vision of the Truth!

Out of the dust of the marble,
Amidst the noise of the chisel and hammer,
From within the coldness of the dead marble,
Carves out his God,
The lady with the most beautiful eyes!
Shimmering in all her delight!

And when the king’s men come
And take her away,
Simoni starts afresh,
In carving out his God anew,
Out of a new marble,
Inspired by the eternal charm,
Of the immortal, never changing Truth!

Days come and go by,
But the music remains.
Seasons change,
But the wonder persists.
Night gives way to a new day,
But the Sun remains unaltered.
Flowers sprout and wither,
But the unbounded openness of the garden remains.
Birds change their route,
But the open magnanimous expanse of sky remains.
People come and go,
But that yearning of connectedness remains.
Yes, God is Omnipresent!
______________________________________________

Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

Rekindling the extant

The Good and Beautiful thought Simoni,
Lies hidden beneath the layers of routine and habit.
What is needed,
Is just that patient eye and throbbing will,
To re-kindle the extant,
The ever present Goodness and Beauty.

For nature whispers,
Only to the ears keen,
And creation shows,
Only to the eyes open.

Through the eyes of the soul,
Discerning from what is visible and peripheral,
In the realm of the invisible and essential,
Simoni observes the Beauty -
The Limitless, Eternal and Perfect.

The noise and the jitter,
Of the material world transient,
Does its best to blur the vision,
And replace that ethereal voice
With the concrete drone.
Simoni is not closed to the errant reality,
But hit with the blows of what appears to be true,
Simoni opens up more fully, every moment,
To absorb the otherwise invisible and forgotten,
The Essential, The Truth.

They say its just a mirage,
And a cooked up feel good coping up scheme,
Of a sculptor just expressing his unreal art.
But then is that not what is real -
The sculpture for the sculptor?

Simoni knows not what is true for the world,
For he sees through, all the popular truths,
The Absolute Truth.
No, it is not his subjective story,
He knows it is the Only Truth,
The Objective Absolute!
The overarching theme of Love.

Who knows what is Absolute!
Simoni does not go to defend his stance.
He is silent. But his Alive.
Throbbing in Love, offering his art
To the suchness of the scheme of things.

His work is to offer. He lives to create and give
His song, his poems, his sculptures.
For only one thing he knows,
He communes with That Invisible,
Through his art.
And She runs to him,
Into his loving embrace!
Whispers She in his ears,
“It is just you, who knows me, my Love!”
______________________________________________

Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

The Flute's Endeavour

Taking up a task so far beyond one's powers,

The flute pressed on to the

Lotus lips of The Lord,

Determined to play the music of love,

Meandering through the landscape of life.

Like the impossible task of Arjuna

Of trying to comprehend,

The essence of The Geeta!

Each time confused,

He pleads for the one simplified way to the truth,

Only to find himself,

Perplexed even more,

After an elaborate Song of The Lord, 

Propounding the mystery of life,

In reply.

The little flute of reed,

Being carried over hills and dales,

O Lord, held in thy palm,

Breath thou, through it,

Melodies eternal and new.

Like a fountain of love,

Mingling with the beloved,

In the embrace of lust and love divine.

At the immortal touch of thine,

The little flute of reed,

Loses all it's limits in joy,

Gives birth to the tune ineffable.

Through the hollowness of 

The ordinary flute of reed,

Pours the never ending nectar of love,

Heard by creation,

As that potent song of Union,

Of the flute, and The Lord.

Ages pass,

And still Thou pourest,

And still there is room to fill.

Like that eternal love making,

Of Simoni and his Love,

The never ending craving,

Enhanced and sanctified by the ever youthful,

Thrust of enlivening love.

_____________________________________________

 Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

The Hidden Unity

The incredible multiplicity of the Beloved,

Manifested in the thousands of forms,

The bountiful autumn,

The colorful spring,

The silent and pristine winter,

The passionate summer,

The specialness of the presence

Of all men, and women,

Of all times and spaces,

All in their multiplicity,

Make up the Unity,

The Unity of 

O Lady with The Most Beautiful Eyes!

Yes, some call her God.

Like the white light,

Which in her mindful silence,

With all her diverse lights of the spectrum,

Integrates all in homogenous presence 

Of that all accepting Whiteness.

Fallen and then stood in Love,

Did Simoni for damsels and nature,

For music, art and stories.

All in the crescendo of novelty and diversity,

Did play for him,

The unified orchestra of

The One, The Lady, 

Angella for Simoni, 

An invisible mystery 

Of life and attraction for many.

The hidden love and direction of life,

Revisits in all her wild and divine 

Lust, love, enchantment, inspiration and ardor,

Like a hidden unity of meaning,

Encompassing in its essence in divinity,

All the tumultuous, transient, and disintegrated

Waves of life.

____________________________________________
Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

Mingling in thine essence

"Desire was there to mingle with Thou",
Soliloquy'd Simoni, "Or would I say,
The desire was born that way.
Never did I know
Why was it born?
Probably it was my destiny"

Another stance of a miracle again hit him;
A grace right from the world of higher spirits.
And he was in trance for the whole winter.
Now, when the winter is gone,
In a position was he,
To pen down what I went through.
It was overwhelming. It was breathtaking.
Yes, it was unbelievable. Absolutely unthinkable.
Such a joy was it.
His heart was light, and it was flowing in trance of exuberance.
Yes, it was an ecstasy he had never known.
It was so tenderly strong.
He gasped, "I have been feeling under surface in my soul so long: an incarnation.
It had to become manifest. So much desire must create a reality.
My love was sprouting out of my heart,
Determined to create a figment, an artifact of that divine state of being."

Angela when blossomed from the white marble,
On that full moon night,
Reflecting all its silvery glory,
On the still stream by the fountain.
And when she wrote on the canvas open,
The verses of the Rubaiyat.
On the sepia background..

Simoni fell enchanted,
Watching the beautified letters, with confident strokes of shiny mysterious black,
Flowing with perfection,
Like a seal diving into the still stream.
Was he standing there, in awe.
Skiing in ease, with youthful wild throb in his heart,
Stupefied with the intoxication of her magic.
He was just watching in awe,
Those impeccable strokes,
Perfect the first time, and every time,
Confident, open, bold, artistic, and glorious.
They were as if pulling his heart out,
Taking it in its tempo,
To a world unknown.
And he stayed, surrendered in his totality,
Allowing the flow to take him to the world new,
To taste that exotic presence of beauty.

Then, Simoni thought, "let me mingle with your essence,
With your flow, with your writing"
And then I too wrote on another row,
Just below the strokes of Angella,
The same words, in his way, in his style, in his might.

Then, Simoni saw his writing, and hers.
He could see they were like made for each other,
One completing the other.
They were so unique, Also they were so alike,
They were so class apart, But they were also so close together.
He could feel the sense of mingling of the souls,
The mutual camaraderie,
Through his writing and hers.
Amazing was the feeling of belonging,
Incredible was the feeling of being a part of her,
Sailing together, in unison, in harmony,
As the dance of salsa,
Being the symphony itself.


"Desire was there to mingle with Thou",
Soliloquy'd Simoni, "Or would I say,
The desire was born that way.
Never did I know
Why was it born?
Probably it was my destiny"

But the Simoni stopped, and contemplated,
"Beginning am I to cherish,
What it means to mingle with your essence,
Your essential beauty,
Your expression of art,
In your voice, your gestures, your writings,
And yes, the radiance of your presence."

He continued,
"Your essence understands me, though you don't.
Your art, and your stance, your magic, your elegance, your enchantment,
All knows me, and loves me, though you don't.
I feel good to be with the essential,
To be in love, in communion, with that essence,
The essence of Love,
The essence of Beauty,
The essence of Life and Light.
I care not,
Thou love me not.

Or probably you do.

Anyway is so inconsequential"

______________________________________________

Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

The Bliss of Death

The music from the violin,
Arises from the hidden world of the heart,
Mingles slowly but gradually,
Into the vastness of Her open embrace.


When the music shows up in all its youth,
It enthralls and amazed all!
In all its pride and voluptuous presence,
It basks in all the highest glory!
Gradually but to eventually vanish,
Entering into Her,
With certainty and un-diluted love!


The Sun rises in all its magnificence,
Only to more and more realize
Its love for her, with every passing moment,
Being eaten by Her,
In all arduous and unstoppable Love,
To the ultimate silent night.
Having being hugged to nothingness,
The Sun in hope of more,
Again rises the other day,
Just to experience being exterminated
All over again, Eaten wholly in Her Love.


The song from the depths unfathomable,
From the throbbing soul of the poet,
Emanates out in all ardor,
Determined to escape to the fresh air of life,
From the suffocating entrapment
Of the chores and rules.
With grown feathers it does explores
The horizon wide.
Flaunts its radiant color,
And novel expressions.
Only to realize eventually its only Love,
The Love for Her,
Vanishing in her bossom,
Like nothing existed a moment ago!


In the landscape that is known as reality,
The games, dances and the celebrations,
All the chimes of the bells,
And the hues of vermillion, crimson, and indigo,
All the strokes, shouts, moans, and laughters
Appears such that
Hidden within all what is manifest,
Is a hidden truth!
The truth of that un-dying Love,
The eternal attraction to Nothingness,
Entering into Her,
Forgetting all that ridges, highs and lows,
Being erased for all and ever.


Walking by the silent Nile,
In the canopy of the twinning eyes,
Of the ageless twinkling sages,
Watching as stars from the infinitude of the open space,
Simoni moves on in ultimate surrender,
In his Love for Her,
Watching himself to be wasted,
With wrinkles, and all frailties of age.
Just to discover in all newness,
That rejuvenated primordial attraction,
From eons past and eons to come,
To be taken forever by Her
In that bestial grasping, clasping,
That tightest hug of the Beloved,
And Her cuddle of the all encompassing Mother,
Warm, violent, ecstatic, relieving and certain!
Into the eternal bliss of Death!
______________________________________________
Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

Simoni's Closet

Ever changing is Time, as the Things.
So do people, feelings and seasons change.
Good that memories don’t.

Opening the huge closet, Simoni was about to
Start the Journey to the bygone lanes of his memory.

The closet of red velvet, lined with glistening gold,

Opened into precious memories
Of years gone by!

There were rings, bells, books, notes, book-marks,
Plaques, and trophies.
All impeccably placed, clean and shining.

In one corner was a rolled red muslin.
Seeing it Simoni remembered it!
Unrolled he the muslin with peace,
Was there a strand of hair,
And note of thanks! - Still Fragrant in that youthful Love.

Started he reading through the lines,
Between the words, and letters.
For started surging the invisible waves
From forgone years of abandonment.

The waves of feelings, emotions,
Vulnerability, fear, pride, honor, and Love.
The note, the letters and that
Most Beautiful handwriting!
All appeared like the Harp of Venus,
What was more essential for Simoni,
Was the hidden Symphony.
The Symphony of that pristine Love.


The color and texture of the paper has aged,
Simoni’s eyes have gone weaker,
His fingers has wrinkles many,
The Love from Her, is now lost
In the commotion of years gone by.
But then, what was still young, fresh and unchanged -

Are the memories, the throbbing of the heart,
And that surrender in the space of Love,
Simoni was going through.
It was all the same then,
It is still the same now!

It was about a century ago,
When the Love was born,
Out of an innocent liking.
In that space in time and dimensions,
Before She loved him, a century ago,
And after she changed, and never loved him again,

In that space behind and in-front,
Simoni was sailing on his suchness of Love,
With shimmering phantasm of
Emotions, lust, longing, sensations,
Rising and dying on the eternal ocean of
The Suchness, and Permanence
Of the Sanctuary of Simoni’s Love,
Always present in Peace.


His possessions in his secret closet,
That strand of hair, the note, the book mark,
The ring, the bells,
All appeared to him keys to the mystery,
The Mystery of Life and Love,
The Eternal, un-changing, constant and un-altered,
Axis of his every youthful Love,
For Her.

For more poems on Michel Simoni and his love - 

http://criativ-mind.blogspot.in/search/label/SIMONI%20SERIES

http://www.amazon.com/Simonis-Story-sculptor-his-love/dp/1481128590/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1367386585&sr=8-1&keywords=samrat+kar

______________________________________________
Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

The Rendezvous with the Eternal

In his studio ancient,
With hammer, chisel and his family of tools,
Was Simoni working on his art.

Around him were sculptures he made long back,
There were men, women, tigers, and tulips.
All in white deeply gazed Simoni busy at his work.

Suddenly Simoni was distracted with the angry gaze,
Of the tiger and the rhino.

And the eyes of disdain,
From countenance of stale old statues of men and women.

Surprised at the anger and hatred, he looked deep into their eyes,
Trying to make out the reason.


Looking into the eyes of the tiger and the rhino,
Simoni, observed in him the ebb and flow
The spasm of the pain of rejection.
Discerning deeper, found he a deep seated need,
Deep down his heart,
To be embraced in the all accepting warm embrace.
He found in him, the infantile craving of a motherly hug -
A symbol of acceptance and love.

Taken aback was he,
To confront face to face,
His weak, emotional need - his handicap.
And that superstition of meeting that need
From the tiger and the rhino in marble.
He was like a child looking out for a crutch.


Then suddenly hit him the wind of the fragrance of acceptance,
From the tulip, silently watching him in adoration, by the side.

He felt immensely comforted by the solace of kinship,
He was wallowing in the wave of love.
He felt strong and happy.
Discerning deeper again he was stunned at this new found strength,
The strength which was just an incarnation of a deep seated weakness.
A weakness of the ardor to be accepted,
From one and all, and the tulip included.
It was again that weakness of a longing of embrace of love.

And then, once established in that strength,
He could sense the tinkling of the hope,
A hope of a constant adoration from the tulip.
And then there was fear hidden under the hope,
"Hope she never leaves me alone"

In all his unrest with the gaze of the tiger and the rhino,
The amorous advances of the tulip,
And the disdaining looks from the stale old men and women,
He discovered the barriers in him,
That was crippling him and weakening him,
That was obstructing him to become fully who he is.

The barriers would get dissolved when he is deep in his work.
When deep into his art of chipping away those extras from the marble rock,
To shape it to the most beautiful angel,
He remembered there was that infinite wave of love,
That he created within himself,
Out of his skill, passion, creativity, and toil.
He remembered that the Eternal Loving Embrace
Was already within him,
And he was the source of that,
All along his journey of creation.
He was the source, and the world was just a reflection.

He realized that neither the beauty of the tulip
Was dependent on his adoration of her,
Nor, his sense of being loved and accepted,
Was dependent on the whim of the tulip.
For that the hatred in the eyes of the tiger and rhino,
Might be self created, or the objective truth out there,
But that does not matter to him,
As he is already fulfilled in love and acceptance,
Creating that wave of passion for himself, and his art,
Deep inside his heart.

No, Simoni is not indifferent to the tiger of the tulip.
Simoni, stands in acceptance and love,
For all around him.
He might not be fraternal,
He might not be part of the group.
But, he stands there entirely fulfilled,
With no needs, but a bag full of gifts,
Gifts of love, acceptances, compassion, respect, humility, and wonder.

He returns to his sculpture,
In white he was chipping the bosom of the angel,
Being able to see through the beautiful heart of hers,
Beneath the luscious curves.
An angel who was his heart, his creativity, his passions, personified.
Who was bright, youthful and brimming with joy.
The angel was in no need.
But was existing only to give.
For she was the Simoni's fulfilled and Joyous Heart.

Simoni went in trance,
Amidst the sound of his chisel,
And the softness of the presence of the angel,
Deeply engrossed in his work and toil,
He had a passing thought -
Was this the Rendezvous with the Eternal?

______________________________________________
Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

Coming to Andrea

The dawn was about to break,
Simoni woke up and looked to the far horizon,
The horizon which was silver lined
With the silhouettes of men and women,
From the mystical land of Andrea.

The twinkle of the stars were fading out,
Into the glow of the Sun.
The fresh light cascading from east,
Gradually was camouflaging the twinkling story of the night forgone.

It was a new morning,
And Simoni was about to reach the
Legendary land of Andrea.
The journey was long and arduous,
A journey of 101 nights,
Nights of storm, solitude, battles, and pains.
All alone, walking the solitary journey of abandonment.
Along the sand dunes and the meandering westerly wind.

The journey has ended or just begun,
Simoni did not know.
Just was that he aware,
At last with his weak and old eyes,
He could see the huge gate to the land of Andrea.

He was in search of someone,
Knew the sky, the stars and the Sun.
Was well aware the gushing ocean,
The meandering stream,
The restless fall.

Unheeded to all the inquisition,
Of the nature and its ways,
Simoni kept walking,
Unfazed and undaunted.

Had he to visit
The 7 castles,
And ask the 7 dames and 7 knights,
Looking for his love, his true love
The lady with the most beautiful eyes.

(To be continued)

Previous poems of Michel Simoni - 
http://criativ-mind.blogspot.com/search/label/SIMONI%20SERIES

______________________________________________
Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

The Space

Walking to Andrea,

In that solitary walk,

Across the desert,

In the scorching heat

Thirsty Simony,

Could see no life around.

Times were tough,

Abandoned was he,

Walked uphill across the sand dunes,

Simoni was all alone.

With no caring shade,

With no drop of quenching water,

With no shoulder to rest.

Was he all alone,

Walking up to Andrea.

With every stride ahead,

There were more unknown,
There were more thorns and uphills.

There was more solitude,
There were more challenges.

Tired was he,

Defeated and wronged was he.

But his spirit was young,

Undaunted and brimming full

With sacredness and Love.

For he had created a Space.

A Space around him.

That guarded his soul,

Away from all that is evil,

Away from all that is dark.

Away from all that is in-humane.

The Space was a canvas for his brush,

It was the marble for his chisel,

It was that empty arena,

Where he could compose his own note.

In that Space,

Kept Simoni creating,

The symphony of Love, Faith, and Hope.

With the power of that Symphony,

Kept he walking, on and on.

For all, what appeared

were the wrinkled skin,

the gray hair, the white beard,

The parched feet.

But deep inside

Was a brimming fountain of life,

Of understanding, Of compassion, Of love.

Deep inside was the ever youthful self,

Guarded by his Space,

Working to see God,

With every passing moment in his life,

Either through his sculptures,

Or his paintings, or his songs.

Centered was Simoni on the Ideal,

On the Archetype, on the Beauty.

Kept he on, his journey to Andrea.

He did not know what would he find

Upon reaching Andrea.

But he knew for sure.

It was the journey, and not the destination,.

Giving him the opportunity to see

His Truth, His God, His Love.

______________________________________________
Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

The Beautiful Mind

“Lovely has been the journey
All these years,
Along with you – my beautiful mind”,
Mused Simoni .
Walking on the long road to Andrea,
So spake Michel Simoni –
An ode to his beautiful mind.

Never have you left my side,
In thick and thin,
In scorching sun and pouring rain!

Like a true friend,
You lifted me from a just a breathing bag,
To a creative man,
Being able to try out the ordeal,
To know my own self,
To be fully, who I am!

In the journey to know the truth,
Both within and out,
Like a guardian angel,

You had shown me the light.
Clairvoyant to what is invisible,
Was not my cup of tea.
But then you were there

Always being a link
Between the self,
And the masters and their wisdom,
Enabling me to have the perspective,
Clear and True!

My beloved,
Whom thieves can’t steal,
Battles can’t claim,
Time can’t rust,
Death can’t snatch!
You are in me, and I in you!

Grateful I am to the Light,
Straight from some ancient land,
Mysterious, Sacred and Quiet,
Sacramenting my being,
With an understanding deeper!

The marble, the statue
The chisel and the studio,
The accolades, the glitter,
The charm and shine,
Passions and pain,
All were just dead remnant
Of the real essence,
The Spirit of creation
Of my beloved – my mind!
The quiet throb of life in potential!

Continue I to swim
The ocean of being alive,
Flying the sky of thriving in life,
Walking the uphill of being human,
Through you,
Seeing myself and the world,
In light never as beautiful,
In love never experiences as such!

You are eternal,
Throughout creation.
Having been the idea from the ancient masters,
To me today,
You shall continue to thrive,
In all your youthful bountiness,
And sensual warmth,
In millions of hearts,
Through eons after,
When I am no more!

O great eternal Grace!
My mind – my beloved!
I dedicate my being at your feet!
______________________________________________
Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar