Fables of The Self

Sacred OM - [by Shiv Sengupta]

Often times had I heard
That deep inside resides a Word
Whose endless meadows we must roam
The sacred sound of Sacred OM

With beating heart and bursting pride
One fateful day did I decide
To take the path that led me home
The sacred world of Sacred OM

And on my journey did I speak
To river, forest, sky and peak
I begged, Implored! of sea and foam
For sacred whisper of Sacred OM

And on my travel did I search
Through holy Temple, Mosque and Church
With piercing steeple, gentle dome
The sacred truth of Sacred OM

Alas, though I did try to hear
And craved to listen with Mind's ear
To Spirit's divine baritone
No sacred song No Sacred OM

With shattered heart and tattered soul
Disheartened I had failed my goal
I wished no more to find my home
That sacred Hell of Sacred OM

Sad and bitter as I wept
I gravely vowed I would forget
Of nature's most deceptive poem
The sacred verse of Sacred OM

And so anew I lived my life
Full of love and full of strife
No universal palindrome
No sacred tongue no Sacred OM

Now I am old and here I lie
Smiling sadly ere I die
For I hear secrets from my tomb
A sacred kiss from Sacred OM

Often times have I heard
That deep inside resides a Word
Whose endless meadows we must roam
The sacred sound of Sacred OM

-- Shiv Sengupta

The Journey: A Prose-poem

A tall tree in the expanse of universe climbs invisible stairs towards her destiny, as I stand reclined against her trunk sure of support. She stops growing higher; her branches, humble in love, droop down towards me.

Deep roots
seek fulfillment
in branches above.

I touch the foliage and remove the brown leaves, dried in the process of transferring their essence to me. Rejuvenated, I walk through the valley along the side of a river. In her dancing innocence, the flow encourages me to go forward and onward. Leaving the forest and woods, I reach the plains. Here are spread mines of silver and gold, and as I move ahead I see diamonds scattered all around. I encounter a fellow walking ahead, leaving the riches behind. I wonder: Why has he renounced these treasures; why does he go still forward?

A fruit drops down
as a needy
passes beside the tree.

He has renounced; is he is in search of or has he found a treasure more valuable than the diamonds? He has found that these treasures were unable to purchase love! One could not exchange the riches for divinity and virtues human beings are in search of. One needs to part with treasures and wealth if one wants pure love.

Deeper and deeper does it lead,
beckons the searcher in its
boundless embrace; it's a deal.

The journey turns inward. There's no place for valleys and ridges now; the sun and the moon do not shine here; visitors are rare. An occasional bird is a welcome intruder; like the flowing river his words murmur a distant music of a mendicant.

His face shines - a nimbus, a halo,
does not raise fear or angst.
Why keep a safe distance -
weak that we may be -
his company ever assures warmth
and never the scorch.

c s shah

More New Poems | More Poems

Suggestion! Opinion?
Hosted by www.Geocities.ws