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!

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Love dieth not

It's not that love dies
Rather its the focus on love
That gets dissipated by
The ignoble forces of our nature
Which haunts us
In the form of 
The shallow busyness 
Of  the daily life!

The vocation of Simoni
Is to be centered on his Love,
And the trance of the beauty
Of the most beautiful eyes.
Focused and ever creative,
Not lured by the easy busyness
Of the daily life.

Through his songs, work and toil
Simoni continues to nurture 
His meditation on his love -
His ever youthful love,
Rediscovering himself every dawn,
In the ever fresh and warm blessings
Of the Golden Deluge of the sage Sun.

As Sun re-kindles his fire of ardor 
Of his Love for the Moon,
Recreating and realizing it anew forever.
So does Simoni,
Through his art and inspiration,
Reclaims his redemption 
Every new morn, and every new eve.

It's not that love dies
Rather its the focus on love
That gets dissipated by
The ignoble forces of our nature
Which haunts us
In the form of 
The shallow busyness 
Of  the daily life!

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Copyright© Samrat Kar. Kar Conversations.

Not the boulder but the Lotus

The blue clear gem
Lay abandoned
Amongst the lifeless boulders -
Arrogant and numb to life.
They proclaimed of having known the truth -
The futility of love and life!
For the black boulders
Were serious and veterans-
They knew all are transient shadows
To bind them to painful attachments.
Hence they lived undisturbed and unconnected,
In that far away world,
Foreign to any season of life and love.

In there stony heartless being,
They missed the point -
Were they not being attached to
The aversion to attachment?
Would ask the blue clear gem -
For he could see through the mirage.
Wanted it to transcend
Its limited predicament among the boulders black.

Eons of penance he did,
Passing through the burns
Of the blazing sun,
And the intimidating thirst.
But never he allowed his own clarity
To be blackened following the destiny
Of the boulders black.

Mother Earth could not bear
The burden of his pleadings.
Nor could creation take it anymore.
There was on one sunny day
Sudden springs of fresh water
Did burst out of the heavy heart
Of the Earth.
Saplings sprouted,
Flowers blossomed,
Clouds came and yielded to rain.

The springs and the fountains
Of satiating joyous water
Embraced the land all around
The clear blue gem.
Purified he became,
Of the veil of doubt,
Gushed was he
To the bank of a newly formed pond.

The new love and life of water
Brought seasons of freshness
and bounty all around.
The clear gem glistened at the bank
In playful moments
With the fishes and frogs.

There was a Lotus white
Right in the middle of the pond.
Mingled in all what was around,
Wet was it but damp was it not!

The clear blue gem
Saw in front what he was yearning for
An equanimity to both
Craving and aversion!

The lotus was at peace
Surrendered to all around -
The ruffles of wind, moss around
The freshness as well as the stink.
Neither was it fallen in attachment
Giving in to the wilting dampness,
Nor was it averse as a concrete slab.

Passing through the play
Of life and love,
Of the form and the formless,
Meandering through the valleys
Of drought and deluge,
The lotus saw all, played all, loved all!
But was always open and transfixed
To the Unity - the Absolute
Overarching the thousands interplay of forms and shadows.

The senses, the forms, the pains and joy -
All were gateways real and concrete
For the lotus to know the One!

The clear blue gem was enlightened!
He transformed to a shrine.
A shrine of love and life.
A shrine beyond attachment and aversion.
A shrine thriving in the sensuality
And the juice of life and love,
Knowing the One in process.

The Lotus was wet.
But never damp.
The shrine was a stone.
But never without spirit
Of the clear blue gem.

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Copyright © 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!

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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.

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Copyright © All rights reserved. Samrat Kar.

Its all about getting back home

As the breath leaves, it rushes to get back home.
The new born is already in its path to get back,
At the altar of death, beyond which it belongs.
The dawn is counting its moments,
To reclaim itself in the dusk,
The creation eager to be back in the quietude
In the lap of Goddess Night.
Its all about getting back home.

Meadows feel the bliss,
Listening to the thunder.
For impending is the shower of union,
To make all feel at rest.
The tired eyes look forward to sleep.
Joy for the spirit,
Health for the body.
Its all about getting back home.

Hidden with all the glitter and never-ending flux
Is the constant ardor and grief,
Whispered faintly in the longing sob of the gray dove,
The leafless tree standing in penance,
For the onset of the spring,
The gushing Ganges flowing onto the sea,
The westerly wind rushing to his beloved,
The fragrance of the incense at the God's altar,
Eagerly diffusing into the limitless expanse of life.
Its all about getting back home.

The essence of life, they ask.
Isn't it the only essence?
Is it the need of bliss,
Or an eternal permanence
Or a sanctuary of solitude?
All what is craved after
Its all about getting back home.


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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.

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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!

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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!
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The Path to Death

I meander through the valleys and hills,
Being the clear stream -
Banked between boredom and thrills.

I remember not, from river which, was I born,
I keep flowing just they way I am,
Know not I, ocean which to shall I fall, worn.

Resilience of being a water,
Is the destiny of being a stream.
All that I know for matter.

Being part of the dynamic whole,
With the open blue Sky,
From the galaxies to the black hole.

The bright warm Sun,
The friendly bedrock of smooth stones,
And accommodating banks ready to be won.

Altogether we fit-in as kith and kin,
Completing each other,
With a faultless overarching sheen.

Privileged am I in this being.
A peaceful yet another vein of life in the cosmos vast,
Seeing myself as not just a disconnected stream.

Being yet another little note,
In the symphony magnanimous,
Feels good to bear a meaningful connectedness to tote.

I meander through the valleys and hills,
Being the clear stream
Banked between boredom and thrills.

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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.

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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..
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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.
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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!
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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!”
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Good Night

From the far away twinkle of the star here I watch thee,
Sleeping guileless adorned by the moon light sheen.
I shower thee blessings
From the eternal distance,
Praying for thy rejuvenating rest and pampering dreams.
As the new day gestates in the womb of silence,
In the darkness of the impending birth of a new possibility,
I send my blessings with my eyes closed,
And hand on my heart.
May you be beautified with greater charm,
And richer gifts in the day to come.

Singing you the lullaby,
Rocking you on the cradle of creation,
Here is a wishing of peace of surrender
This night through.

Your hair winnowed by the passing breeze,
Sent by the ancient sages -
Those twinkling ancient stars.
The sages shine as reflection of grace,
On your gleaming eyes,
Bringing forth their wisdom of Love,
To this world, through those most beautiful eyes!


The benevolent creation watches you,
In silences from eons away,
Offers She her care and wish.
Entwined by the fearless wand of Her blessings,
Thy retire on the bed,
Sinking in the depthless ocean of ecstatic rest.
Only to give shape to a throbbing tomorrow,
In the process to be born,
In fullness of life and light!

Ending of the stale,

And heralding the new,

Here I wait through the night,

To see a new beginning the morn to come,

With the newness of life,

Brimming with light!

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A Pinch of Salt

Meditating on the breath,
Letting go the stale and old,
And gushing in with new life,
The stream of awareness
Like a pinch of salt,
Reveals the taste of the Presence,
In clarity profound!

Touching the still openness,
From where the tumultuous changes arise.
Wearing the silence of the womb,
From where all warps and weft of Lila blossoms.

The mindful presence
In stillness and solitude,
Like a fresh shower,
Cleanses the heart of the illusive barriers,
Enabling it to reflect Life and Love,
More fully, more truly.

I continue to live,
Centered on my breath,
In thick and thin,
In shadow and sun,
I continue to transcend
From thinking to awareness,
Knowing Thou more fully,
In thine glory,
My Lord.

Meditating on the breath,
Letting go the stale and old,
And gushing in with new life,
The stream of awareness
Like a pinch of salt,
Reveals the taste of the Presence,
In clarity profound!
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Silent but not Indifferent

Silent but certainly not indifferent
Stands she in sheer robe,
Arousing creation with her sensuality
With her desirable body,
And magnanimous soul.

Wakes up the whole cosmos
To a new morning
Inspired with her passion and beauty,
Like a hearth of fire,
She continues to blow life into
All that is proud to be alive!

The gushing Niagara,
The tumultuous Atlantic,
The persevering Nile,
The all alive Amazon,
The powerful glowing Sun,
The ever youthful Moon,
All throb with life anew.

Each new day, each new night,
Just being fed,
With the exciting energy
Of your throb,
The creation moves and grows,
My Love,
My God.

Yes, she is silent.
But not indifferent
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My Song

For the limitless Presence of Thine O Lord,
Grateful am I beyond words.
To be truthful, I do not know what name to give to you, and your presence.
Anything, that I think - a friend, a lover, a muse, a charm, a blessing...
All appear trivially inadequate.

There is something beyond these words - That you are! Just that your suchness.
All the sparkles, fuzziness, contradictions and mystery of your presence,
Altogether, they weave a unique tapestry of splendor.

It is only thorough my song,
I see you, I feel you, I understand you.
You art not reached through my heart, mind or words.
Nor are you reachable through my emotions and yearnings.
The only way I am able to reach you,
Is through my song.

And the magic does not end there,
For in the intoxication of my song for you,
I forget myself, totally to nothingness,
And there is created a world,
Where there is only One - That is You.
In that omnipresence of you and your charm,
I relate to you, my God.

All that is hurtful and melancholy,
Do melt in the warmth of love,
Amidst the symphony of my song,
Mingled with your presence.
A new dimension you give to it,
Beyond the words, rhythm and life.

In this song, my God,
You have made me endless!
Such is thy pleasure.
A frail vessel am I,
But then filled am I,
Over and over again, with fresh Life.

Sometimes I wonder,
Is it my song,
Or is it Just You!
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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.

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 Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar