Monday, 30 November 2009



Bethrothed to the bride of Self, pure as sky,
When golden sun is shining, all cloud clearing,
With bright effulgent rays, resistance searing,
Unveiling his unblinking all-seeing eye.

Jewel of gems, a fathomless fecund mine,
Lustrous, as a lotus flowers in full bloom,
Void of thought, as Earth eclipses Moon,
Gently speaking, his gaze of grace doth shine.

At peace, unperplexed, no more asking why?
Untempted by the teasings of fleshly sights,
Merciless to mad maurauding conceit of I,
Impervious to desire, jealousy or frights.

Abiding in the heart, in peaceful joy,
Blazing like the Sun, all darkness he'll destroy.

Saturday, 28 November 2009


Let’s give thanks to great Lord Sri Ramana,
For his boundless Grace and Jnana teaching;
He grants silent diksha without vain preaching,
And the precious gift of atma vichara,
His directly liberating, true sadhana.

His eternal presence is close; ever reaching
The hearts of all devotees, so breaching
Mad ego’s fortress of darkest avidya.
We feel devotion through our gratitude,
For leading us out of dreaded samsara;

He bestows full faith, strength and fortitude,
He transmits the power of Arunachala.
Ever our loving guru, guardian and guide,
Deep in our hearts his lotus feet abide,
Present in my Heart is great Lord Ramana

Friday, 27 November 2009


Deep poise in Self alone is sure release
From nescient net of perverse mental pain.
Only a practiced well skilled subtle brain
Can swim the lake of light in perfect peace.
When one's wander-lust does end and cease,
And restless mind keeps quiet on restful plain,
Like dry parched dust settled by summer rain,
Abiding still at heart will calmly please.

By sharp sword of steel discrimination keen,
Between the false unreal and truly real,
The pinioned mortal soul may also feel
Joy divine, detached from worldly scene.
Soon mental mire and wounded body heal
From trouble toil of torrid thought's machine.

Thursday, 26 November 2009


A lamp is lit to glow in my spirit's hearth,
I rest in rosy red of dawn with God who's One.
For at my core he shines blazing like the Sun.
Let sandal wood breathe and perfume Earth,
Letting petty 'me' go, to start a new birth.

The art of diving deep within, is my own
Earnest practise, solemnly bowing down
My ashen head at His lotus feet, to know
The oil in my camphor lamp* will always flow.

The Quest itself derives from fear of death,
At edge of brink to that far off ocean depth,
I catch a glimpse of light from down below,
And sink within,letting sad world float away,
As old day fades, my flame shall always stay.
The Holy Task is to my Self be true and know!

*Camphor burnt in votive lamps leaves no residue


Tuesday, 24 November 2009


THE SELF is dear to all, from dearest love,
Devotion flows like a stream of golden oil.
Our Sage knows Self within as God above.
His child, after hard and persistent toil,
Still sees himself apart from God, yet melts
Mere logic to find faith from all turmoil.

The bubbling heat of love the foul dross smelts,
His heart's desire, becomes God's lotus feet.
The one who attaches form to Holy Name,
In time transcends that Image, just the same.
With Devotion ripe, and hearing Truth complete,
The blossom on the bough flowers Self replete.

The fool who prays for selfish ends desired,
Fulfilment never finds; then he maintains
His love for sake of God alone, well inspired.
This feeling, being granted, he yet remains,
In love with that One, the only true emotion.
He sprouts a lotus of pure white devotion.

On azure lake, its root deepening that notion
Within earth's vessel, God guides us o’er the sea
Of strife; allows Soul to unfold, as Self of sky,
The One all wise, unlidded, all knowing Eye.
Devotional Surrender is thus the master key
To take us back home and ever dwell with Thee.

Monday, 23 November 2009


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".

Saturday, 21 November 2009



Life’s not some glamourous gambling game,
A throw of mindless roulette on life's wheel
Of scarlet-red time and jet-black space;
A play of dice numbered in some numb brain:
It is much more than that my dearest friend!

We slipped from our Natural State the Self,
And fell into a gross material dream.
Our angel wings were badly bruised and hurt.
After suffering, we prayed to come back home,
And in His Grace, God-Love sent a Unique Sage*,
To wake us from our dark nightmarish plight;
Repeating birth and death through many lives,
Drowning in a whirlpool of predestined fate .

Surrender and Self Enquiry are His cure.
The mind which sent us on this ego trip
Of losing, now yearning to find one's Self again
Will aid us, if real earnestness is there .

*Bhagavan Sri Ramana Maharshi

Thursday, 19 November 2009


Life is a swiftly flowing stream of re-born Souls,
Each playing different roles on this Raft of Dreams,
As preordained by Lord Iswara for their growth
To Enlightenment and Liberation, or so it seems.

Myriad are the changing scenes in time and space
As Jivas are reborn after a long sleep of rest.
There comes a day when tired of suffering in this place,
There's a call to awaken from the vale of tears.

Then the Mighty Lord through Grace sends his Teaching,
Which tells us how to wake up from all our fears.
We read the Upanashadic Teachings of the Sages
Revealed to mankind throughout the many ages.

Self Enquiry, Devotion and Surrender are the keys,
To unlock Samsara's prison gates and set one free!

Wednesday, 18 November 2009


Bliss has flooded the Heart of our beautiful Mother Earth,
A Sage has come as Ramana to save us; taking human birth.

Because the Lord of Mercy whose days on Arunachala Hill
Leads a life of glory that ever shines and clears away all ill,
By his Great Realisation of that Everlasting Truth,
Revealed by Lord Krishna in his Bhagavad Gita forsooth:
Like Dakshinamurti in Samahdi was shown by Shiva,
As an emblem of silence, and revealed to Great Sage Sanaka.

He’s the revered Enlightened Master and gracious guide
Of all learned scholars with me, Sri Ganapati at his side.
He’s possessed of all the highest virtues known to man,
His brilliant effulgence is neatly clad in body’s plan
Of physical sheaths, when added together make five in sum.
Behind dark worldly clouds he shines, a radiant blazing Sun!

He‘s perfect as the ruler over the five senses so unruly,
He always sees only merits in others, clearly and truly,
He ever abides in the blessed blissfulness of peace,
In his Being, pernicious poison passion has long ceased.
He lives only on the free offerings of caring devotees,
He dwells as an ascetic on hill slopes, ever there to please.

His Heart is proof against sharp arrows of carnal desire,
He’s the living embodiment of God Agni’s sacred fire!
He’s devoted his days to teaching Knowledge of Jnana,
He’s crossed the stormy ocean of dreaded Samsara.
He uses his hands soft as a lotus to serve as a bowl,
Fear ends for all who take refuge to make themselves whole.

At his feet, by his intensive and most powerful gaze
His auspicious presence is felt as a fierce fiery blaze.
He crushes the load of devotee’s dark misery to dust,
And scatters it along with their latent tendencies of lust.
He’s a safe haven of protection, security and peace,
His brightness of light chases away sorrow with ease.

His virtues are mirrored in rocks, streams and leaves,
His sweet, truthful words calm anyone who grieves.
He’s never over elated by praise nor depressed by blame.
He’s foremost among all the Sages, world famous his name!
He has relentlessly cut off the despicable ego-mind,
He’s overthrown all inner enemies that mankind finds,

Like greed, anger, pride, jealousy and infatuation.
He’s immersed in a flood of blissful sublimation.
He’s climbed the peak of mountainous transcendental height,
Through his own vision he’s known Divinity’s dazzling light,
Well-nigh impossible for poor suffering ignorant others,
He’s free from arrogance; he sees all men as brothers.

In ancient times he pierced Krauncha Hill like Skanda,
To forego joys of being fondled by his mother Uma,
That he might be reborn in human form as Sri Ramana,
To shatter dense spiritual darkness of Earth’s samsara.
As an ascetic wearing only a clean loin cloth of white,
He rode on the back of a Celestial Peacock so bright.

He’s now descended as a humble soul on planet earth,
To reign over the world, a Master unique in human birth.
Salutations to that One who transcends all attributes,
The celibate, with human skill and talent most astute.
The master and slayer of the diabolical Taraka,
An emblem of man’s dark ignorance, that avid Asura.

There’s no divine peacock that can bear one of his ilk,
No Ganges he can bathe in, no nectar of mother’s milk
From the breasts of Goddess Parvati, no celestial choir
Of vina players to sing and gently wile away each hour.
Oh great pounder of Krauncha Hill! how do you still abide
On sacred heights of Arunachala, evermore to reside?

He’s a God divine but wears only a single face,
He left his fond Mother Parvati’s sacred place.
He doesn’t wield a silver spear in his nimble hand,
He takes human form to deceive this sleeping land,
He hasn’t celestial armies marching for him there.
Enough of this mask by which you bewitch the unaware!

But how will you escape your brother Ganapati’s sight?
Some worship you as best among Realised Rishi’s bright,
Some as a Jnani, Great Guru of Gurus, beyond compare,
Others as an humble ascetic, so wise, comely and fair.
But all of them prostrate before your sacred lotus feet,
Yet only two or three see you as Skanda, a God complete.

You explained the significance of Aum to Great Lord Brahma,
You spoke to tell the Truth to your father, sacred Lord Shiva.
You’ve kindly become the teacher of your elder brother
Sri Ganapati, to whom you’re as dear as his own mother.
Subrahmanya you’ve outstripped your elders by much merit,
For generations to come, such sage wisdom they’ll inherit!

The seat of honour reserved for those of most worth,
Once enjoyed by Great Sage Vyasa of high noble birth,
Later by dispeller of darkness Great Lord Shankara,
Now awaits you, the Master Sage, dear Lord Ramana!
Commander in Chief of the Celestial Army’s plan,
You’ve now come to planet Earth embodied as a man.

Now when righteousness and religion seem at an end,
When all worlds are driven mad around sanity’s bend,
And wretched scholars have lost sight of Ultimate Truth,
Disputing polemics; when even God’s Existence forsooth
Is disputed, who else can be our safe haven and refuge?
Oh Skanda born on Earth as man, save us from such deluge!

Though dispassion’s crucial, can you withhold your grace replete?
Though effortlessness is desired, must worship of God’s holy Feet
Be condemned? Though desire’s wholly contemptible for you,
Would that cause you to cease from guarding your Sadhaks true?
Oh Skanda hidden in a comely body with a human mask,
Why do you still bide your time? I most respectfully ask.

Away with empty dispute, discourse and discussion vain,
Righteousness! no longer need you limp or feel so maim,
Bewilderment and confusion will be wiped from the world,
Good shall flourish everywhere and Truth be unfurled!
Because our Lord, foremost of Guru’s, son of Parvati
Is now incarnate on Earth with his brother Ganapati.

Oh mankind, revere this brother of Ganapati, the Master
Who’s come In bodily form for now and for ever after.
The Self, pervading the microcosm and the macroscosm,
Who is behind the souls of all, model of perfect altruism.
Source of the ego in which all differences are lost,
Who aids his children to Moksha regardless of cost.

Hail Bhagavan Ramana Maharshi, Universal Master!
Dispeller of misery from this sad world ever after,
Who chases away darkness from his dear devotees
As that Eternal Consciousness ever ready to please,
Abiding in the Heart, blazing bright within and without,
Bereft of the least trace of ignorance, none to impart

Self’s the transcendental Truth that’s underlying
The world and beyond, there can be no denying.
Oh Ramana, pray turn your gracious glance my way,
So that I may be eternally blest, forever on this day.
Oh Bhagavan, you’re the natural Guru of all mankind,
Your boundless Heart knows no differences, so we find.

Troubled world, egotism and God are now all observed,
As one transcendental Reality by virtue of your word.
The recalcitrant mischievous ego has fallen down to die,
I now exist as that One Reality which isn’t apart from ‘I’.
By your Grace our Hearts readily realise the Divine Self,
Hidden within the perverted ego, that vile demonic elf.

Blessedness isn’t a virtue for you, oh Chief of Sages!
Its natural in your shining Heart you’ve known for ages,
Oh Spotless Being your form blazes with effulgent light,
Infinite is your penetrating gaze, so brilliant and bright.
Oh Lord your egotistic mind has vanished in your Heart
You dwell in Eternal Sat Chit Ananda, never to depart.

You’re the acknowledged chief among ascetics severe,
You’ve been deputed to roast Souls for the Lord so near,
Cut off their egos and well season them for tasty food.
I worship and revere you, who does every deed for good.
You pierce through our ignorance dwelling in the heart,
By virtue of your Grace, and piercing glance you find to impart.

You’re beatific, but your poor devotees are of little worth,
Thrown headlong into an ocean of certain death and birth,
Being drowned in their worldly desires without respite,
And falling endlessly exhausted every noon and night.
They reach up for the two lotus flowers afloat in mid- sea,
And clutch for safety at your holy feet most earnestly.

Merciful Lord, grant the poor refugees your gaze to save;
You’re so fearless, all powerful, both wise and brave.
If unsuckled by its mother, what’s a babe’s sad fate?
Where’s safety for sheep when their shepherd’s irate?
Where’s help for the sad soul pitched against God’s wrath?
How will ignorant ones conquer mind, like a flame is to moth?

Master! Why not relieve the devotees pining at your feet?
Perfect peace spreads when you shower nectar so sweet,
By the lucid lunar-like gentle smile that shines on your face,
Your steady gazing eyes grant incomparable grace,
Ramana, your pearl of silence is a gift of priceless worth?
It’s unparalleled , oh Lord, on this poor planet Earth.

The light of Parvati shines through your penetrating eyes,
Dispelling ignorant darkness that clouds the mind’s skies.
Your face gleams with the grace and brilliance of Lakshmi,
Your words contain the secret lore of Goddess Saraswati,
Preceptor of the worlds, Sri Bhagavan Ramana the Great,
How can a mere mortal sing the glory of your Realised state.
I am now far away from your lotus feet in the heart’s cave,
My faith in your might keeps me quiet waiting to be saved.

Good fortune visited the Red Mountain Arunachala,
For having sheltered Great Sages in the past, oh Ramana,
But now has grown unique because you’ve chosen this hill,
Among many sacred places here for your mission to fulfil.
Bliss has flooded the Heart of our beautiful Mother Earth,
A Sage has come as Ramana to save us, taking human birth.
*A free versification of the prose translation from the Sanskrit, of ‘The Forty Verses in Praise of Sri Ramana by Ganapati Muni.


Will following codes of righteousness aid
Our earnest effort, 'till freedom's gained?
Good conduct, helps one's aim, but when attained
It fades, that day one's Pilgrim Way's been made.

With prayer and enquiry, pray be unafraid,
Skill in sacred chant if well maintained,
Unceasing like great ocean waves sustained,
Will merge with Soul's Being when well played.

Like one strikes a gong, so sincere good will
When filled with heartfelt love, rings on high.
So put the question enquiring Who am I?
With all one's strength and mighty skill.

That question will complete the Holy Task
Which each earnest pilgrim must surely ask.

Tuesday, 17 November 2009



Sluttish senses strut the streets and strumpet,
Soliciting, embracing nonsense notions,
Flirting with salacious crude emotions,
When shall back-pack mind cease to trumpet?
Dressed up in opinions, fashion's crumpet,
Vague assertions, intellectual potions,
Intoxicating theorems, formulations.
How to end this harlotry? Best dump it!

Display the wonder of your radiant form,
Your golden tresses, moon-lit eyes of night;
Overwhelm my mind, then service I'll perform;
Stop lurking in the gloom, enter into light.
Let me glimpse the glory of your aura, bright.
Calm often follows tumult of the storm.

Monday, 16 November 2009


Almighty God has strolled out to day,
Every bird chants in sacred splendour,
Every tendril towards Him yearns,
Each pearl of morning dew shines on clay,
Reflecting the ocean of God's grandeur.
Dark veils have lifted, Sun beams do burn
To reveal the glory of such divine array.

Sometimes lurking behind a cloud of grey,
Mischievous sunshine sulkily hides,
But I have glimpsed Him in the lily bed,
Where the hem of His robe is on display.
Skywards His Sun Chariot swiftly rides,
Until it rests in flame of brilliant red.
The curtain of Night drops down on day.

Look who just flew into my room this way!
In the tiny form of a food moth flying,
Searching for the light of a candle flame
To be consumed, and on some other day,
Evolve, even if now it looks like dying,
To be reborn and grow nearer to that Name.
That's all I need to say about His play.

Sunday, 15 November 2009


Creation, from galaxy to gene, dear friend
Is a musical dream, an harmonic blend,
On pianolas programed by A Maestro Supreme
The ground base is struck, His enigmatic theme .

The tune ,a uniquely melodic one
For each instrument is uniquely done.
Through assonant chorda and dissonant notes
The whole concerto grosso spatially floats

Creating ethereal music of the spheres
For the sole enjoyment of celestial ears.
Yet we are more than piano rolls of sound
We flow 'continuo' as monochords profound,

By improvisation from A Cosmic Force
Out of the silence of An Infinite Source .

Saturday, 14 November 2009


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's 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.

Friday, 13 November 2009


In this vast magic lantern picture show,
A Wizard projector dims down the light,
Plots a melodrama to show tonight.
Shadow puppets sport upon the screen below.

But one Wise Sage whom his True Self does know,
As patrons settle for this Epic sight
To thrill feelings with shock,terror,delight,
Says "lantern,screen,slides,and lights that flow

Are but sense-emanations from your mind.
The show you're watching is a dreamer's play.
For each person the slides reveal their day.
As Knowers Of The Real you're like the blind.

So cease reacting ,there's a much saner way.
In care-free Peace of Self, BE STILL and stay!"

Thursday, 12 November 2009



Source ordained that you'll be a seeker
He made your search strong and sometimes weaker
According to His cosmic law and will,
To know 'that you are God and then stay still' .

So dear friend you have been truly hooked
Now by Lord Shiva's Grace you'll be well cooked,
By a fearless tiger's claws you've been grabbed
Ego's about to be both slain and bagged.

Don't struggle ,be quiet,resting in his jaws
Sooner or later with his fiersome paws
He'll strike the phantom 'I thought' down and dead,
So keep calm and rest in your cosy bed.

This is the will of Almighty God
You lucky lucky,lucky clod.

Wednesday, 11 November 2009


Monkey mind performs perfidious tricks,
Watch it trapeze in its jungle of illusion,
Tangled tree tops of passionate delusion,
Honeyed hills of craving,lust for kicks,
It picks and licks pleasure-plums and plays antics
In confusion, falling drunk. In profusion,
It emits ideas, an endless effusion.
So silence it with a punishment of sticks.

But I must accept 'myself', this treasured gift
Of life. Tie me stoutly by a firm rope
Of Devotion, then I'll steady, and not lift
My heart in sham elation, but wait in hope;
Clear headed and sage, I'll be able to cope.
The True from the False I'll be able to sift.


The perusing of sacred texts alone
Will fail to gain that wished for blissful end.
A message to seekers our Sage doth send
“Dive within! have Satsang with your Self Own.”

When Guru’s teaching seeds are deeply sewn ,
Wisdom’s wheat will grow and feed us, friend,
At Harvest time,our wounded hearts He’ll mend;
Our Book,our own Self,Brahman will then be known .

To meditate, await in the Natural State,
And when abidance in this space is firm
Abundantly we’ll reap the goldern germ
And free the soul from hand of iron-bound fate.

Strong is that power,unfolding,so try
Enquiring at its Source!discover 'who am I'?

Tuesday, 10 November 2009


The poor lost sheep have wandered far from home
In dense bracken , dangerously they roam.
They approach a perilous deep abyss
Which is very far from fleeceful bliss .

They followed a false shepherd who was blind
Nowadays so easy for such sheep to find.
True shepherds seek to save them from their gloom
And deliver them from their threatening doom.

He gently leads them on to pastures green
And still blue waters quite sweet and serene.
Then with balm he heals their impeded sight,
The happy lambs frisk and skip in sheer delight.

The moral of this tale will be very clear
For those with eyes to see and ears to hear,

Monday, 9 November 2009


The Aquarian Movement hailed 'Brave New Age',
Sorely needs wisdom from a Self Realised Sage.
Permissiveness in every possible form,
Many times beyond the accepted norm,
Has led to decadence and collective shame,
A dark stain on Albion's sacred name.

If we're not more careful then tomorrow,
We may suffer Sodom's fate as did Gomorrah.
Maybe in good time such a Sage will come,
And the New Age will surely then be One;
A blessed Utopia of peace on Earth,
New Age will then become New Birth!

So let's move to a much higher stage
Of this much heralded Aquarian Age;
Men and women joined in joy and love,
Return to worship the Great Power above.
They search within for their true Selves to find,
Fatigued by flippant frolics of fickle mind.

Aquarius fetches fresh water in his cup,
Brings forth Real Truth to lift man up.
That he's yet to come causes sad regret,
But soon, if in God's Love we don't forget,
He'll come to usher in a true New Age,
And humanity shall turn a golden page.

Sunday, 8 November 2009


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 she dies, my bees all keep still forsooth.

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

Saturday, 7 November 2009


Whoever is awake to the material world
Is fast asleep to the spiritual world.
This wakefulness is far worse than sleep,
When our soul’s asleep to God, it’s a door
Closing, to prevent the entry of His grace.
All day we suffer from a host of fantasies,
Thoughts of loss, gain or degeneration.
For the Soul there is neither joy nor peace
Nor a way of progression heavenwards.
The sleeper has his hope in each vain fancy
And converses idly with these foolish voices.

The bird of the soul flies cheerily on high
While its shadow is speeding upon Earth,
Some fools hasten to chase their shadow
And rushing hurriedly become exhausted,
Not understanding that it’s a reflection,
Nor knowing from where it originates.

They vainly shoot arrows at this phantom,
His quiver soon empties from the long quest.
The contents of his worried life become a void,
Time passes in chasing after this grey shadow.
But when God’s shadow becomes a nurse maid.
It saves him from fantasies and illusion.
God’s shadow is the true servant of God.

Dead to this world yet living through Him.
Take hold of His hem quickly so your skirt
May also be saved at the end of your days.
Never enter this dark valley of the shadow
Without a guide who’s a true son of God.
Desert the grey shadow, gain the bright Sun
Hold the hem of the orb of Shams Tabriz.

If you don’t know the way to the bridal feast
Enquire into God’s radiance named l’Haqq.
If envy grabs you by the throat on the way
It is Satan who reaches beyond all bounds.
Because from green envy he hates Adam
And he’s at constant war with happiness.

On the way there’s no harder bridge to cross.
Happy is he who hasn’t made envy his friend.
The body is a mansion packed full of hate,
The family and servants are all tainted.
Yet Almighty God made the body to be pure
So sweep clean His house. The purified heart
Is a true treasure and Earth’s gold talisman.

If you indulge in guile, deceit and envy
Against one who’s without a hint of blame,
Then black stains swell up in your heart.
So rest as dust under the feet of a Sage
Amd scatter the dust on envy’s bald head.

Any fool who mtorments his body is unfit
For comprehending the spiritual life .
The nose catches fragrance leading to truth
That scent is the God revealed religion.
If he’s whiffed this perfume with ingratitude,
It comes and destroys his organ of perception.

Give thanks! be a slave to those who are grateful,
Be in their presence as one truly steadfast.


Tuesday, 3 November 2009


Let’s stoke a blazing fire deep in the heart,
Throw tendencies on that funeral pyre:
To invoke, purified from mundane mire.
That’s indeed the true pilgrim’s need and art,
Although in life, he must play his destined part,
An actor on the screen of life, set to enquire
Who Am I? and to Self abidance then retire.
Then a fulfilled new life begins to start.

If fate forces you to play a certain role,
Pray do so without anxious attachment,
That’s so essential to make one whole.
Live a tranquil life in calm detachment,
This must be the earnest pilgrim’s goal,
And fill with conscious bliss, heart’s crystal bowl.

Sunday, 1 November 2009



We're carted in a cosy caravan of dreams,
Driving fast across vast desert waste.
Nothing we see is exactly as it seems,
From mirage to death we race in reckless haste.
The Master Sheikh cries "wake up you sleeping one,
Within you shines a Great Almighty Sun!".

A boy had need to cross that golden sand,
To find his fond father in Samarkand.
His journey was beset by many trials,
The brave lad trekked for miles and miles.
He trudged on when all seemed sadly lost,
He persisted regardless of all human cost.

God's grace came in camel shape, a beast had strayed,
So back to his father, the way was safely made!


The fierce blazing heat of noon-day Sun,
Afflicts each caravan on its lonely way.
The camels yearn for water, but there is none,
Until they reach some oasis, one blessed day.

The Sheikh cries "The Sun is like God's will,
Driving your caravan across the golden sand;
Water's like Real Truth, which you need to fill
Your heart, to cut your knot of bondage band!"

A traveller traversed across that desert plane,
Soon he became thirsty from the blazing heat,
He prayed for water from a shower of rain,
To save his life, his journey then complete.
He glimpsed an oasis, 'twas a mirage it seems,
Such is our wasted life, a caravan of dreams!


The Sheikh calls "come to the tavern and drink
The ecstatic ruby wine of love divine!
Then enquire into that one who thinks;
Soon you'll find your inner Sun sublime
That lights your mind of wandering dreams,
And makes you see a world that only seems
To be Real, when its all a false delusion.
That's the very root of mind's illusion!"

A pilgrim knocked hard at the tavern door,
Alas he found it shut and firmly closed.
No answer came although he did implore
The Sheikh to help in what he had proposed.

Then he heard a voice within the tavern cry,
"My son to your false self, you first must die!"


The One Eternal Sheikh is our blessed Self,
Not treacherous, perverted monkey mind,
Like some diabolic demonic elf,
It flits from each tree to tree it finds.

So hearken to the wisdom of one's Master Sheikh,
As he teaches freedom and the way to awake.
The Sheikh in the desert on the golden way
To Samarkand, frees us from the prison of each day.

A man met his Master one blessed hour,
And enquired, "how to free myself from 'mind'?"
The Master said "if you turn within each hour,
In search of you own false self you'll surely find,
That real freedom you so urgently desire,
And be born again in God's great sacred fire!"