SELF INQUIRY

Hear this, comprehend clearly as transparent air!
I'm not what I think or imagine that I am;
I'm aware like a cat stalking his fare, I'm aware
I'm not this body, earthy pot of red blooded jam,
Nor mind, mere mechanical word secreting machine,
Or a 'me' who peeps from behind a measly mince meat ball,
A dreamer, deluded by pics which flick across my screen
Of Consciousness, an empty space for 'what is' to fall,
So I leave this torrid, troubled toxic world alone.

Where is the rightful place in 'who I really am?'
An illusive surface, a shimmer, why mourn or moan
About this sandy desert with its camel caravan?
Drug induced visions like Kubla Khan or Avalone,
Emanate from mind, like mists, when hot breath hits cold air.
There's no time, a clockwork convenience conceived by man,
Space and causality are concepts in the errant brain,
No substance, but atoms dancing in an aeon's span,
No mind, a measuring tape, used on this dreamer's train.

No good or evil, right or wrong, fashions of an Age,
Only a birds nest of thoughts, it's best left to lose.
"Nothing perceived or conceived is Real" says my Sage,
"You're not what you seem to be and no one to choose.
So called choice is illusion in the predestined plan,
Free will's only apparent, and ego's pride we use
To usurp Divine Will as mine; that's the sin of Man.
There's nothing, in Truth, for anyone to will or decide,
Know 'That', and be happy, end all thoughts of suicide.

I am eternal, as Consciousness, I am 'That',
Beyond concepts of Holy Father or Mother's balm.
Truth is heard by those who at the feet of Sages sat.
Remember the verse in King David's favoured psalm,
'Be still and know that I Am God' stay silent and calm.
Words are erudite, the real point they always miss,
The Holy Aim is beyond comprehension, I repeat,
The veil that conceals the source of speech is remiss
The other side of knowing is silence, peace replete.

When in mind, I think this world isn't a dream but real,
I feel separate from my Source, yet know all is well,
Unfolding precisely as it must; I trust and feel
No need to bargain with God, as far as I can tell,
All's well each moment, I know 'That' so I let all heal.
Nothing exists, not even these thoughts, they're a thorn
To remove thorns; in Truth there is no thing at all.
I rest, desiring nothing, I am thus unborn,
Empty to be Pure Self Awareness, for peace to fall.

My reason has been jolted, shaken to its inmost core,
By my wildly strange adventures, uniquely so bizarre;
Who am I? to be feeling there's no 'me'? shout hurrah!
I seem to be, intuition, that's flooding through the door,
Drowning my brain and sense perceptions, near and far.
Is there anyone here? Is Awareness my real identity?
Then thoughts broke in and ended my earnest Self Inquiry.
I'm moved again to play the sportive game of life,
Merrily dancing to circumstances piped by drum and fife.

A CLOSE SHAVE

Skilled like a demon barber, Sage shaved my head,
Clearly sheared my sense of 'I' and 'mine',
Ego, slain by sharpened razor's edge lies dead,
I'm free to savour ecstasy, a heady wine.
Heaps of golden locks lie on his salon floor,
Sweeps aren't to be dissected or numbered.
Bald, I walk briskly from this barber's door,
Free from care and fear, unencumbered.

Having shorn my waving shining hair,
I wildly stamp a dance of riotous joy,
Prancing madly in the transcendental air,
Happy as a star struck adolescent boy.
Attend the barber Sage, dear lads and girls,
And loose your selfish selves, not only curls.

BLUE LOTUS

MASTER, like a Sapphire brilliant, bright,
Self's blue lotus, nestling deep in my heart
Lies bound, its calyx tightly wrapped, pray start
Its unfolding by warmth.Ignite pure light
To waken Love; dispel soul's dark night
Of ignorance by white rays, beamed to dart
To heart's core, biding in her caverned part.
Self's hiding behind the veil, reveal her might!

Blue lotus rooted in the mire of strife
Flowers in the fresh waters of your space,
She needs help, sent from your boundless grace.
The well honed blade of your pruning knife
Cuts weeds, so she may blossom in her place,
To adorn the altar of your temple, Life!

SHIPWRECKED!

Bravely I sailed away in an uncharted sea,
Minus map, compass, captain or crew;
I missed my mooring, suffered shipwreck too.
A titanic storm raged against poor 'me'.
Please pilot 'me' across this sea, let pity be;
Unless your able craft sends me swift rescue,
My dinghy's sure to sink in deepest briny blue.
Be my life-boat, I pray, my soul's in jeopardy.

A salt doll in some fable, proudly walked
Into the sea, daring to try and plumb the deep.
She dissolved in rough water, her great leap,
Her effort bold, had been obliquely balked.
So unless you wake me from my cabinet sleep,
I'll beach like Jonah's whale, by harpoon stalked.

SELF ENQUIRY

MASTER, you've shown me how to turn away
From wallowing in life's glittering glow.
Rather, help me now to focus attention, so
I can dive within, to find my source, and may
Cognise the root of 'I', to learn the way
To live from inmost Self. Then I'll know
That Sun which lights up maya's magic show,
And watch myself sport in life's shadow play.

With fullest strength drawn from egotistic me,
I turn attention around, asking 'who am I?'
As each mischievous sparrow thought flies by,
I ask 'to whom do fits of fancy come' then see
It is to me, then I ask again 'who am I?'
Until petty me deigns to topple down and die.

ACROBATICS

"Let me cease to be a juggler of the mind,
Clowning with coloured balls of contradiction,
Opposites of yea and nay, all's fantastic fiction.
Help me, blesed Sage, true wisdom to find.
End my hard wired tension, stressed springs unwind.
Train my mental pigeons to switch direction,
And swoop home to roost in truest Self perfection.
Jesus pitied Bartimaeus, he healed the blind!"

"Dearest, mercy compels me to come and teach,
And end your confusion and dark dismay.
God's inside you, just be still and stay.
Enquire within, remain at heart. For each
Soul must strive. That's the Truth I say.
God will aid your effort, your Self to reach!"

WHAT SHALL BE SHALL BE

Fate jogs along, a drunken juggernaut;
What's to happen inevitably will,
Be it destined for pleasure or for ill.
No end of prayer or angst of thought
Will change the plan, that Mighty God has wrought.
Be it ambrosia sweet or poisonous pill.
Welcome all that happens, drink one's fill.
Through surrender the realised state is brought.

He looses a pile, she sweeps the pool,
He's born to life, she will die today,
He's sent to labour hard, she to play.
He learns Self Knowledge she stays the fool.
Accept all that happens on your pilgrim way
That brings great peace to troubled mortal clay.

BUMBLE BEES BUZZ BACK HOME

My mind drones, a hive, each thought's a bee
Sipping from purple fields of fragrant thyme,
I fly home to comb, nectar drips through time,
With amber wax and honey rippling free.

My thoughts when disturbed sting suddenly!
If snared by disputes that aren't sublime,
Beware! my bees swarm beneath the scented lime,
I withdraw, deep into my heart of nullity.

The dance of bees points the path to flowers,
A wise Sage points out the way to Truth,
Queen 'me' has reigned for countless life time hours,
But when 'me' dies, my bees all keep still forsooth.

If freedom has yet to arise dear sleeper,
Heed this advice from an old bee keeper.

LOVE LILTS A LULLABY

LOVE crossed my threshold in her bridal white,
A diadem of stars adorned her hair.
She chanted in cadenced accents fair,
"For Man, there is division, wretched is his plight,

The notion of 'another' he always keeps in sight,
It's more than he dares, and it's extremely rare,
To transcend the thought that there's another there.
Don't see others,just be others, that is really right.

Like a mother wraps strong arms around her son
To breast, she holds him firmly, right up tight.
A smile slips across her lips, sunkissed bright,
United to her babe, she finds the two are one!"

In our great quest to find Divine Mother's Grace,
Hold her firmly in your heart with warm embrace.

SUMMER PRUNING

In my cloistered garden, blood red roses lie,
Bowed, surrendered to the spear of morning light;
Diamond drops of dew mirror a turquoise sky,
Blue forget-me-nots cradle the lilies white,
All's hushed in heart's deep haven bright.
A silence profound descends, the dawn of peace,
Simply 'just be still' is the soul's release.

A gardeness comes to summer prune the blooms,
With tender care she cuts the sappy stem,
The lustrous Sun disperses earthly gloom,
Each radiant rose, glows like a ruby gem.
The garden of that Goddess is her bridal hem,
Each green leaf and fragrant summer rose
Breathes the beauty which one's True Nature knows.

A MOTH SPORTS BY CANDLE LIGHT

AS PINE TREES bend beneath a pile of snow,
So shall I kneel before your mighty power,
This sunset eve, this solemn silent hour.
Midget 'me' yields! only now do I know
That I must die for angel wings to grow.
In one ultramarine wave of bliss, our
Hearts are blent beneath the marriage bower,
To fuse in a lantern's incandescent glow.

Consumed by fierce naked white hot flame,
Like a moth who flies too near the light,
Bewildered, blazing, brilliantly bright,
Mind's flint is struck with reverence for your Name.
My eyes can no more bear this dazzling sight,
'I Am That', by your Grace, eternally the same!

DIVE DEEP

Deep in the sacred shrine of the heart cave,
Dwells the glorious formlessness of Self:
One pointed, shines as I; not demon elf
Of ego, but subtle space, our soul to save
Through questing mind. Dive inwardly deep!
Let vital breath and thought quiesce to keep
Self abidance. These words our great Guru gave*.

Who perceives and wakes from sleep to see
The essence of this verse, uttered by the Sage,
Will through his life be unassailed by doubt.
The precious pearl of Self shall set him free
From slavery to that banal world without.
Stay in Self by any way we can engage,
For gates to open; this is the master key.

MYROBALAN OF THE MAGI

I peer clearly at the palm of my hand,
I hold a transparant gooseberry fruit,
I hear Orphic strains hymned by silver flute.
Let's dance madly to an ecstatic band.

Get drunk on spirit scalding fire, fanned
By September's blissful breeze. Deep at root
Of my etheric heart lies an amathyst shoot
From a Great Primal Sage from an orient land.

He taught that Realisation, cool and calm
Was as clear as that fruit I held in my palm
That's the myth of Magi's myrobalan,
Sacred as frankinsence, red rose, mandrake,

Solomon's Lily, of which the Holy lamb
Of God, spake for his dear disciple's sake,
In immortal words, as part of God's great plan,
'Neither toil nor spin, for I am That I am!'

THE LILY MIDST THE THISTLES

MIDST MAUVE tipped thistles, a lily grows.
Solomon, who with all his sage solemnity,
Wealth, wisdom and regal identity,
Was not arrayed like a single one of these.
There by his side, this fragrant Arum Lily glows,
Her scent is wafted on the balmy breeze that shows
Earnest aspirants, such precious symbols please,
And gladden hearts, to set their souls at ease.

The Lily amongst thorns is likened to the Sage,
Teaching enlightenment by her silent gaze,
Among the flocks of folk in this bewildered age,
She lights a fire settings woods of dreams ablaze.
So praise fair Lily gracing your thistle field,
She cries "enquire my child, surrender ego, yield!"

NIGHTINGALES SING IN WEEPING WILLOWS

Sweet Nightingale boldly throbs his song of songs,

Pining for safe return of his long l0st love;

Mirroring soul's yearning for her great God above.

Pure unconditional love and faith belong,

To those who strive with mighty effort strong,

Like this symbolic bird or turtle dove,

Adored by Sufi poets, whose rhymes they wove

With threads of prayer for 'That' for which we long.



Death of dark ego was their sacred aim,

Prayer, penitence, practice, the righteous means,

Invoking aid and grace, from His Sacred Name,

Whirling and turning in ecstatic scenes.

The Holy Task's inspired by faithful nightingale,

To soar over stormy seas and never, ever fail!

MORNING SUNBURST

A BERYL BLUE cup of Morning Glory bloom,
Sips freshly sunkissed dew to beckon morn.
The rosey cheeked blushing hue of aureate dawn,
Awakens dozey souls, dissolving doom like gloom.

Today is close woven on time's ever shuttling loom,
A trudge in blood-red poppy fields midst golden corn,
Wakens sleeper from dream like sleep to new life reborn.
He dwells in Self, contented in his cloistered room.

He meditates on profound Sage wisdom, so
Giving thanks to God for all bounteous gifts,
Bringing him closer and closer, now to know
Intense awareness: soul's misty veil soon lifts.

The brilliance of sunlight is God's highest wonder,
Shattering soul's frosty window panes asunder!

WITTGENSTEIN'S MAXIM

AFTER DARK decades of endless reading matter,
Information, encyclopaedic, does this to that relate?
Probing problems by deduction or debate,
With reams and realms of mundane mindless chatter.
Nouns and verbs drop, splashing, pitter patter,
Plashing over probables, and the paradox of fate;
Babbling, burbling words, well afloat in spate.
Does a river also natter like a half mad hatter?

Solution lies in silence of the heart, so still,
Profoundly emerald as the boundless ocean deep.
Mental consternation will surely make one ill,
But in quietness, intuition shyly dares to peep.

'WHAT CAN BE SAID AT ALL, CAN BE CLEARLY SAID AT WILL,
BUT ONE CANNOT SPEAK SILENCE.'* So now it's time for sleep.

*Tractatus Logico Philosophicus P. 30 , 1922 edition.

DIVINE HUNTRESS

Cloistered in her Castle Royal, where
Cleft in casselated cliffs of ragged stone,
Lies the chamber of my chatelaine alone.
"Why lurk lambent behind a latice there?"
Beams stream from her stare, a gaze so rare,
A holy terror, like a crouching tigress thrown
On a couch of jungle flowers thickly grown;
Her ruby fire glows, my heart suspires for air.

"Huntress, in this desert of dire delusion
You rip out ripe egos of your waiting prey;
Their arrogance of willful world illusion.
Hear my bleeding buffalo's plaintive bray;
I pray, end my pain before the break of day;
Free me from this snare of mind confusion".

DIVINE DANCER

THIS LIFE of ours is a bewildering dance
Whirled by a wild Dervish God divine,
Drunk on vintage Dionysian wine,
Wildly turning, nothing left to chance.

Upon the mellow pipes of circimstance
He choreographs a play of space and time,
Each glance upon the stage of Earth is His rhyme.
Universes dance, through His mystic stance.

With rolling drums of thunder, mark his stamp!
In the music of the spheres, hear his tune.
Effulgent Sun shines as His beacon lamp,
His finger points towards the silver Moon.
He is the Alone, whereby all things are done;
Divine Dancer, dancing and His dance are One.

FAITH

Help me to make the giant Kierkegaardian* leap,
Pole vault over rigid Reason. and all doubt, keep
Under lock and key; forego ego’s vain dispute,
Enter bravely into firm, resolute Faith Absolute!

Take the Excalibur sword of focussed attention
Then with adoration and strong, deep intention,
Dive down into the oceanic bed of the heart,
Find ego’s source, pearl fisher’s precious art.

Cut the binding knot, and end paranoiac mind!
Halt mad fancy from driving one spiritually blind.
Total surrender of self, will turns Earth into Bliss,
Such is the blessing of our Master's loving kiss.
Greet golden morn like a new babe freshly born
Rest secure, on the breast of Divine Mother Dawn.


*Famed 19thc. Christian theologian who advocated a gigantic
leap into Faith as the only remedy for
human despair and anxiety, along with an intense inward
turning towards the ‘kingdom of heaven’
within.

CHARTRES

THE GLORY of God’s Gospel glows with light;
Pilgrim sees growing from green on the ground
A tall temple of stone hewn high on a mound.
Her sculptured craft astounds his purblind sight,
He falls down, surrendered, with all of his might.
He’s awed by the magic charms of her sound,
Angels chant psalms, stained windows shine bright.
It’s New Jerusalem, the City of God re-found.

Each niche tells a legend set in tinted glass,
Radiant rainbow hue, sparkling like dew,
The inward mind knows her message to be true.
Pilgrim feels healed by the visions that pass,
His Soul wakes up, no beam blurs his eye,
Heart’s upraised by her spires, high in the sky.


Her steeples aspire like arrows aimed at God;
Prayers assault her vaults, for heaven’s sought.
The soul’s inflamed to blaze in its earthy clod,
By Saints, who from her oaken pulpit taught.
A medieval miracle, mighty marvel, to behold!
Amazed by the maze on her limestone floor,
Many parables on her painted panes unfold,
We stand in awe before her portal door.

To calmly comprehend the art of Chartres,
Where cryptic Christian chrisms are unveiled.
Start to chart her craft inside your heart.
In such masterly masonry, much is revealed.
Her stained glass windows glow like precious gems,
Showing celestial scenes from which truth doth stem.


Ah Chartres! ‘mystere merveille’, enigmatic book
Of God’s creation, you’re an emblematic sign.
Architectonic is your binding, majestic, divine,
Your pages etched on alchemic glass. So look
For graven keys in carved and buttressed nook.
Christ points the way the saints and martyrs took,
There were miracles, wan water turned to wine,
Wonder of Chartes, may your beauty e'er be mine.

On slabs of limestone lies a cryptic maze
Soul’s riddle, the puzzle in which she’s caught.
Once dancing here, a Master Templar taught
His Masons, the measured steps to freedom’s ways.
In Chartre’s stone arches, clues are given,
Sacred tunes for hymns, wend their way to heaven.


Dig down deeply, dive in one’s Self to find
The Chartres Cathedral inside the inner heart,
The real temple ever bides behind the mind.
Stab the stoney slabs of sleep, and start
To plunge within the cloister well, hold breath
In one’s sanctum sanctorum in the east transept.
Notre Dame de Chartres mirrors the One inside,
The Light Of The World behind the door, doth hide.

So step beyond the Gothic shades, uncover all!
The Kingdom Of Heaven shines within, not out,
Real Chartres shines within one’s heart, so turn about
Into the Self within, where God's Grace doth fall,
Chartres Cathedral, miracle for all to see,
A pilgrimage there may well enlighten thee.

SPIDER'S JAWS

SPIDER'S JAWS

On spider's spindle, a silken web does spin
By pinhead wheel, threads of gossamer come,
Stinging with mandible the victim numb,
To wrap and trap, her jaws to drag within
Fortune's morsel! a dainty dinner thus to win.
Sages when perceiving Creation see, and some
Say that She, whose depth no mind can plumb
Springs spider-like from Brahm, all worlds begun.

Spirit and matter as One, come from the Source,
That is cosmic law, none are free to stray.
Consciousness in motion is a mighty force
Whose will's a wheel of magic shadow play.
There's no other way but be free in Truth,
So rest in spider's jaws, await her sabre tooth!

MEDITATION

Lord, who clears the locust cloud of needless fears,
Let your light dispel these dragon flies from mine!
Knowledge and ignorance must part like oil and wine,
It fails to mix in the waxless ears of one who hears.

Pilgrims perform their penitence with perfect ease,
Sloth will not survive in their sacred state benign,
Constant practice dwells inside their hearts at peace,
Bringing calm from moment to moment in quick release.

Sage shines his torch as brilliant light. For Seers,
Unsought, their brave efforts ripen into powers.
Through divine sport our glowing rainbow world appears,
In which to play, and wile away life's dreaming hours.

If destiny decrees, the bright effulgence of the Sage,
Shines, a blazing beacon to light our darkly shaded age.

QUESTIONS ON UNITY

I’m filled, like a mountain lake after summer rain,
Fed by a flowing stream, source of wisdom, love;
A spark, fired to light this planet, from above.
A ray of flame on a brazen, burnished plane,
To gild each leaf on my way down lover’s lane,
Warming earth’s fertile, terra cotta clay,
And emerald sea of mercy, green and grey.
Air’s balmy breath of life is free from pain,
Crystal clear, beyond the game of loss or gain.
What means it to my Master, pure as a dove,
This empty void, an abyss, a lonely way,
The costly pearl that pilgrim has to pay?

What of scriptures, tracts, Gitas, sacred books?
Lord’s lurid library of command and revelation,
Reams of cryptic comment, endless emendation,
Holy tomes which cram cathedral nooks and crooks,
To provide much caw-cawing for a crore of rooks.
Is that Self Knowledge, Upanishadic or Socratic?
Or malady of mind, narcissistic, autocratic?
When freed by Sage wisdom, from dull senses, it looks
A hotchpotch prepared by Satan’s favourite cooks,
To titillate one’s poor palate to a new sensation.
So what’s this freedom, vulgarised by folk democratic?
But my dear Master knows, he’s The One, truly aristocratic!

What’s knowledge of truth, freedom, awakening?
From ignorance, sleep, alienation, delusion,
Folly, dithering in a mad dream of world illusion?
Freedom from bonds, desire and slave attachment?
What’s the meaning of mankind’s predicament?
What’s the deep significance of ‘ego’, ‘I conceit’,
Errantly wedded to body, well bedded in self deceit?
What’s‘mine’, a grabbing hand, grasping temperament,
For umpteen baubles, attractive, yet vehement?
Or pure Awareness, to save one from confusion,
To rescue Soul from dualism and preordained defeat?
So I pray for grace and knowledge at my Guru’s holy feet.

I am ‘That’, Absolute Consciousness, ever One,
As unconditional love, awareness, reality, bliss,
Embraced by love of God, and blest by His kiss;
In radiant light of His glory, bright as the Sun,
I am ever homogeneous, second then to none.
What care I for freedom from chains or liberation,
In life or death? Or game of gaining Realisation?
Or this current world destiny predestined to run,
Rebirthing in some alien womb, ‘til kingdom come?
For after transmigration, at-one-ment I may miss.
My Master halts this baffling mental perturbation,
I let go, and abide in Heart with silent adoration.

I have no central entity, resident at home,
No one to feel elated or badly hurt by fear;
Or pleased, perplexed, pining, or simply here,
To feel depressed; yet there’s restless mind to roam
Over inner seascape of bubbles, froth and foam.
So where’s he who suffers, enjoys, plans and acts,
Who holds opinions, thinks he knows all facts?
What’s rising of thought, beneath my cerebral dome?
What’s this visible world? plaything of some gnome?
So now, there’s no fictional person to jeer or leer.
For my Master, his cards are neatly dealt in stacks,
Abiding in the Self, there’s no need for lofty tracts.

So, set in the temple shrine of the spiritual Heart,
Nestling on the dexter side of my breathing, breast;
Not on the left, where a fleshy pump beats in my chest,
Dwells ‘I Amness’, from which real awakening starts.
So pondering, I pose the vital question, what’s the part
I play in life, what’s the answer to the riddle of the world?
Who yearns for freedom from the jail in which I’m hurled?
What is Oneness, consciousness, truth, wisdom’s art?
Into my heart He fired Love’s rose flowered dart.
Who’s bound or freed as an honoured friend and guest,
Behind the body-mind, and now at last unfurled,
As space for world to happen in, lustrous and impearled?

So deep in my Heart, I Am the One, unborn,
Uncaused, unborn, deathless, Self existent, free.
I ask, what’s this stormy, bubbling, troubled sea
Where froth is foaming, from morn to twilight’s gloaming,
On Self’s ocean, lit by orange orient dawn?
What is Creation? what means world dissolution?
I ponder questions and search for heartfelt solution.
Who and what is seeking? king, bishop or pawn
On time’s chess board, God’s emerald palace lawn?
What’s the end of searching, is it peace, liberty?
Who’s the brave seeker to find absolution,
Has he found as answer? the ultimate resolution.

I am pristine, pure as Himalayan snow,
A pellucid stream pouring from a mountain height;
Chaste, flawless, without shame or blame, wintry white.
I trickle down the valley to the sea below,
And flow! curious about all there is to know.
By his Direct Path precious Self Knowledge’s gained,
To a glorious peaceful end, if and when attained?
I’ve no problems, in heaven, or in hell so low;
I’ve surmounted grief, elation, sorrow, born of woe.
Simply stated, I see what’s meant by wrong and right;
The world by preservation, is maintained
By grace of God, and His will, all beings are sustained.

Awakened, stay steady, perfectly still
As an adamantine rock in ocean stands;
Unmoved by blustery winds, or shifting sands.
What are opposites, from health to sickly ill,
Pleasure, pain, joy to sorrow, to heal or kill?
Distraction, concentration, meditation,
Reflection, rejection, contemplation?
My Master welcomes all as God’s Almighty Will!
He accepts ‘what is’, as gracious grist to his mill.
Gently through grace, he breaks all bondage bonds.
In a paean of praise of unconditional affirmation,
He rests One in the Self of conscious consummation.

I’ve lost the dread merry go round of thought;
Perpetual treadmill of self-opinion and words,
Mainly cynicism, lies, flapping wings of carrion birds,
Poisoned witch’s brew, often bitterly fraught
With totally mistaken notion that I ought
Cherish intellect and make my mind the chief.
To be burgled by thought, that villainous thief?
So the lesson that my dear Master patiently brought,
Ignore snake bites of concepts by which you’re wrought,
All that inner dialogue is truly quite absurd:
Here is pure Consciousness, a gift beyond belief,
The end of thought brings peace and blissful relief!

I am clarity, pure as a crystal and lily white,
Flowering in purple, thistle-bracken field.
So what’s world delusion ? To this question I yield;
For mind can never understand the infinite,
The magic of Maya is a trick of light.
What’s world’s dream, notion or thought? It appears
Like fantastic music, deceiving all ears.
Emptiness of egotism, a simple void of night,
Is witnessing Self, nakedness of inward sight.
So what’s unveiled when the onion is peeled?
The Master wipes away confusion and dries my tears.
He says “all’s unfolding as it should”, and ends my fears.”

Without hint of duality , One without two,
Unified, whole, absolute and seamless,
All of a piece, love and pure awareness;
So there’s nothing to divide me from you;
Perfection coming from a primal source, who
Am I but ‘That’? deathless, eternal, the same
Self-existent, truth, a God without a name.
I know there’s nothing poor puny ‘me’ can do:
All that happens is His mighty will, through and through.
I rest in the heart, blissful, benign and blameless;
So what’s my soul to that awesome Lord of flame?
He says “unknown, celebrate, enjoy My game!”

For endless rigorous effort, where’s the need?
Struggling ‘gainst one’s natural way of feeling,
Trained to prevail, practising fair dealing;
Pressed to labour if you wish to barely feed
A family, own a home, a job, and so succeed,
Conditioned like some machine well oiled.
Poor pilgrim’s now half baked, parboiled.
So my Master to his pupils, now does plead,
“Surrender, when you carry out each deed.
Forget the books, austerities and kneeling.
After all the hard years you’ve ardently toiled,
Relax, unwind, and never by this world be spoiled!

You’ve no limits, hedges, you’re no longer bound,—
No edges, land marks, verges, remain for thee.
Nothing arises, you’re empty space, for all to see
That all is well unfolded, true Self you’ve found.
You traced your ego like a zealous hunting hound,
And found your primal source, the Light of day,
Now as witness-consciousness you’re free to play.
So rest in your Heart, near a sacred mound,
Where your naked feet tread, is holy ground.
You’ve found freedom, joy, bliss and liberty.
Nothing is. Thou Art God, what more is there to say?
You’ve glimpsed the truth of Self the Non Dual way!”