"Some days when I am able to pick a pen and write, I know I have been blessed."~Savita

Welcome to my blog. In my quiet hours I seek to touch the depth of myself and my surroundings. My thoughts that take form of poetry are just the scratches on the surface of life as it reveals to me. Wrapped in a delicate veil of symbolism and ambiguity these verses and expressions also fulfill my desire to share a bit of my self with others. I hope reading them would be as enjoyable for you as writing them has been for me.

Sunday, January 23, 2011

The Light And The Spider, Sunday, September 12, 2010 at 11:03am


















Upanishad says, “ You are It.”
“O illumining Sun! The Pursha (The Eternal) there and there, He am I.”
Christ says, “ I and my Father are one.”
Holy Qur’an says, “ God guides to His light whom He will.”
Resting in armchair I ponder over the phrases.
On mantle sits the Buddha statue.
‘We are the sum total of few aggregates, says Buddha, void is all left at the end’.
What happens to consciousness?
I am troubled by the question.
Stephen Hawking says –“Universe can and will create itself from nothing.”
Is void or nothingness same as a vast eternal pool of Conscious energy
Capable of spontaneous creation,
Abiding in all yet transcending it all.
It lends its unconditional support for a grand design yet is free at will in its workings.
Buddha experienced it.
They call him ‘Tathagata’.
I look at the bronze statue again.
His raised hand lifts me in compassion.
He is One with Light.
The night darkens and moon shines on the window.
I put my notebook away and come out to greet the moon.
With a squint I hold the moonbeam in my eyes
The beam reverts to moon as I let go of it.
The soft glow of moonlight spreads calm everywhere.
The summer night is hot, the air still and tree leaves sleepy.
No noisy insects tonight.
All fiery discord subdued with the cool breath of harmony.
Under the bright porch light a silken web sparkles.
The spider crouched in his frail dwelling shines like a gold dime.
His slumber disturbed with my alien figure but not enough to make him run frantically from the web.
His eyes are too small for me to look into.
Yet I feel him looking at me.
His little eyes like two lumps of a mosquito bitten flash, weave a silken thread to captivate me.
In the quiet of night with light around me
I stand spell bound
Feeling the connectivity yet not knowing of it.

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