Journal : Two Poems

The Exile

It all began early but in immediate context

The vocation chose me ere I could assent

And got trained at which I wished no part

To meanings much that meant little

And cures, tall lures that ended short;

My wager lifelong thence began

To keep out money from what I am

Definitions the world and people heap

On a new-born yet to awake from sleep

Thus it continues, clear since it has been;

I live and earn to meet the needs

With mind turned in on the spirit 

Being the being ‘thout supports

Unpropped, at peace, witnessing

Life’s deserts and wondrous oasis.


O yes, I’ve been rebuffed …

For not being ambitious enough

And have roved all over

From one place, one job to another

Suspect, to my employers

Of being unwise and unsafe

Meant huh… but nothing here

Unpawned I moved like a bow full stretched

Arrow in place to fly sharp fearless

Without wile, no vile, I would veer never

From bull’s eye now large straight to steer,

For people, never mind, are nothing, I say

They held naught my want, just antipathy

For I’d pass them by as I’d dull hokeys

 

Damn the hierarchies, the fools organised

At lives I’d spurned, the lords and lackeys.

* * *


The time to move on was then never too far

My woman would trouble and I’d look beyond

For those about would love and make her cry

Through uprooting days, wound up domicile

And I’d watch the little boy, his undisguised glee

Laughing, glad real, untouched, forward looking. 

*** ***  

Being Deep Asleep

The being in deep sleep is without compare

It’s us in unique bliss but with self unshared

Without body dreams, mind ego, just vitality

No thought, no desire, no impressed identity.

It recharges the mind field that feels so refreshed

De-loads all organs and liberates the instruments

No honey traps to interfere, no nagging to tire

And the fun, dear reader : we are there somewhere

Only, we don’t know and not as we think of ourself.

 

No gap, no knowledge, but they come back in tact

The name, tax sense and dues return in fact

Skills, emotions, pollution, tea, family and friends

Come to party again in throbbing non-existence. 

* * *

 

This morning

When the dawn was yet to break

My mind unburdened

Did not jog the Memory

And stayed content

With the self of deep sleep

Who is free of matter

Of time and space, and who

Liberates and pervades

The swallow pairs playful

About the ground I stand.

 

Yonder, circling on high

There’s an eagle I see

Prey in beak

Floating placidly …

Sudden as if in jest

It releases the prize

And eyes its fall

Supremely confident …

Waiting, waiting till last

Before swooping down

To regain the stuff mid-air

In one precise sweep. 

* * *


Isn’t the caretaker lad’s honour unworldly ?

Is the barber, silently at work, meditating ?

Being, pure being, immense

Ha la la la, in view

Cool blaze issuing from depths

Of each I and you

Etched and projected

Into forgetfulness of itself

To identify with form

Love and feel forlorn

And chase the world

Settle into the mirage

And take it for real…

From which I now awaken

Allow the origin to reclaim

Reconcile at the source

But fiercely accentuate

This segregation absolute

Between the me-universe

And the witnessing self.

 

Oh yes, I’d wade into it again

For acts in truth and joy

To hammer at the privileged

Fake immortality and ploy

 

For the last man to know

He’s free, immortal, God. 

*** *** ***

 

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