Peace of calm Ease of soul Are two things I sense In these serene morning moments Whether it’s the weather here A gentle breeze & blissful cool Adding to it all, I know not But it’s a wonderful start…
Is the form you see Exactly the form I see Perhaps they differ In the way we choose to interpret.
Is form the mark of reality Does being formless makes it unreal Is form the contention To know the real and unreal.
Forms are shaped by intentions In dedication & deliberation. For forms become fleeting memories Perishing in the sands of time.
While the formless evolves in the heart Holding up to unfathomable faith They may live on in the silent knowing Of unspoken trust in the being.
Discernment of the forms In the inner recesses of the heart and the mind Waltzes the consciousness of the being In States of knowing ,of the truth of light
A light of wisdom That takes many forms Million times over To show the path of truth.
The path is lit As the steps are taken The forms manifest in the interactions Of vibrations in resonance.
Between these Illuminating illusions Of the form and formless What is real and unreal All are just reflections in the dimensions.
In the beam of even one moment of truth Is the convergence of envisioning Forms and formless become one Conveying the message safely home.
Today am happy to share an introspective piece of poetry by my mother Anjana.
Mind The strange , invisible me Playing me like a puppet In its hands.
All of a sudden When in a group of happy hearts The neurons in my grey cells suddenly switch some remote thoughts Buried deep in my memory folds . And lo, amidst the laughter and gaiety I shrink to my own self, Away from this Now n Joy.
Amidst a mourning group, Or sad events, It strings the tune of Blessed moments Making me smile within myself.
How powerful are The seeds of thoughts Arising from the depth of mind Controlling my moods, words and actions.
It makes me dance to its tunes. I become a slave to its Whims and fancies Losing control of my own self And repenting later.
All happens in spite of learning about awareness and detachment. When I will learn to tame The wild horse, And become the master from slave.?
A street of yesterday comes to mind echoes of children’s laughter Sipping on a juicy cola bar right out of school.
A fruit seller with ripe berries outside the school Children thronging around buying berries from pocket money. How inexpensive was the joys of then! On the other end of the street was their ever popular mango seller, selling spicy salted raw mango slices, all mouth watering delight of then. And yes, the memories of the temple lane right across lined with tiny flowers shops Scents of fresh fragrance of flowers wafting in … Reminiscences of life, so non-fussy & simple.
I sense hope every time I see a fragile flower. Mistake not, the flower as fragile for in its blooming from a bud it has resilience writ large in every petal .Projecting hope majestically it withstands the day come rain or sun
Every flower is a powerful yet graceful testament of hope & strength springing fresh from the earth.
Speaking of Power…
Power is often mistaken to be loud and aggressive, but often it is the quiet, the silent rebellion that has the most effect.
I had this beautiful dream Of flaming ruby red lights Dancing on blue waves of water Floating lanterns all afire As the fire burns brighter The flickering lights Waltzing on water…
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