ARUNACHALA

Holy radiant hill of roseate red,
Bathed in wooded swathes of emerald green,
He stands aloft in noble poise serene,
With Parvati's peak, whom he once did wed.
This form of God, this mighty mount has led
Many pilgrims to Moksha, the state supreme,
And wakened them from life's turgid troubled dream,
All their worldly cares and troubles He has shed.

A pilgrim climbing the mountain path one day,
Had clear vision of Beings formed of light,
It filled him with joy and love to pray,
With much devoted piety and might,
In gratitude to Lord Arunachala,
For sheltering our dear beloved Ramana!

VOICE OF SILENCE

Who hears the silent voice inside one's heart?
> This is the question all pilgrims must ask;
> This constant Self enquiry is our holy task,
> It will lead us on, and God's Truth impart,
> Otherwise we put the horse behind the cart;
> Failing to find bliss of Self there to bask,
> And sip nectar from Self's own lustrous flask;
> Asking 'who hears?' is the finest way to start.
>
> Pilgrim felt lost on the path to Liberation,
> Wearily, he prayed to God for mighty grace,
> So he could attain the gain of Realisation,
> To see and know his own original face.
> A voice from the silence spoke from his heart,
> Just ask yourself 'who hears?' then you shall start!

SADHANA

Self Surrender and Enquiry are best ways
To end sad sad suffering in dread samsara,
thanks to the Teachings of Sri Bhagavan Ramana.
By persistent sadhana, end those dreary days,
Enter a world where bliss and joy ever plays,
And reach the realm of Love in peaceful Nirvana;
The end of seeking, now abide in Jnana,
So to our Great Sage lets offer fulsome praise!

That's the highest task mankind can ever try,
No good posing intellectual questions 'why'?
Better to ask the question 'who in Truth am I'?
And end life with grateful thanks, not a cry.
Clear all malign vasanas, dive into one's heart,
This worthy sadhana is perfected art.

LIBERATION

From Liberation is there anything to gain?
Freedom from suffering and endless rebirth,
That's the precious pearl of Realisation's worth,
So from sadhana never cease or complain,
There's need to cleanse the mind from ev'ry stain,
The end of life's dream isn't the end of mirth,
For with emancipation there's no drought or dearth
Of perfect joy and blessed bliss beyond all pain,
A life of sunshine without dark disaster's reign.

A Pilgrim climbing slowly up the mountain path,
Was refreshed by a shower of grace divine,
'Twas as if washed pure and clean in a sacred bath
Of Love, much sweeter than costly vintage wine.
So from Liberation there's no need to fear,
The keynote is persistence and effort most sincere.

LILY MIDST THE THORNS

MIDST MAUVE tipped thorns, a perfumed lily grows.
> Solomon, who with his Sage solemnity,
> Wealth, wisdom and regal identity,
> Was not arrayed like a single one of these.

> There by his side, that Arum Lily glows,
> Her scent is wafted on the breeze that shows
> Earnest ones, the devotional way to go,
> And gladden hearts, to set their souls at ease.
>
> That Lily amongst thorns is like the Sage,
> Teaching enlightenment by his silent gaze,
> Among the folk in this bewildered age,
> He lights a fire settings woods of dreams ablaze.

> So praise fair Lily gracing your thorny field,
> She cries "enquire my child, surrender, yield!"

POOR LOST SHEEP

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 follow a false shepherd who is blind
Nowadays so easy for such sheep to find.
True shepherds seek to save them from all 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,

DEVOTION

THE SELF is dear to all, from dearest love,
Devotion streams like a flow 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 fim faith from all turmoil

The radiant heat of love his 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 real emotion.
He grows the lotus of pure white devotion.

On deep blue sea, its root deepening that notion
Within earth's frail craft, 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.



__._,_.___

SURRENDER

The supreme act a man or woman can perform,
Is surrender of the mind to God alone;
If with sincerity and highest moral tone,
Soul's then received and no longer mourns forlorn.
The thief repents, to steal no more, torn and worn
By conscience pricks, he now sincerely does atone,
Rejoices in freedom, instead of imprisoned groan;
So mind's surrender sees birth of bright new dawn.

As boxer who's been battered by punch and blows,
Throws the towel in the ring with real relief,
The asprirant who surrenders, now fully knows
He's forgiven like that bad repentent thief.
Surrender is the golden key to freedom's gate,
Act now, not postponing, until it is too late.

EUTOPIA

My new Novella EUTOPIA has just been published. An intrepid explorer discovers the long lost Kingdom of Emperor Prester John in the Happy Valley of Prince Rasselas and discovers a new ideal Utopian way to live. An exciting, enthralling, educative read.

A GARLAND OF FLOWERS

1
BLUEBELL WOOD

I took a walk in nearby Bluebell wood,
A wild flower garden arched by aspen trees,
When sunshine casts its searchlight beam on these,
We're raised to God, the blessed and the Good.
This is the home of Beauty if it's understood;
Art without Her will always cease to please
Nor take Soul back to worship on her knees,
As poetry, music, painting truly should.

A painter came to Bluebell Wood to catch
Its wonder on his canvas in due course;
Try as he might his skill could never match
The magic marvel of Mother Nature's force.
He realised there was a limit to his power
To capture the God-like beauty of that sacred hour.

2
DAFFODIL

Easter Lily, named by those whose blooms we love,
Golden yellow, surging wild in wood or field,
They open fresh perfumed petals to yield
To sunlight, shining down from high above.
We wait for the sign of the peaceful dove
To save us from Noah’s flood when soul is healed,
And our covenant with God is truly sealed,
Mad demon ego receives his killing shove.

Emblem of all that's good in Christ's Teaching,
The Easter Lily shines as floral light,
The Christian Way of Love is ever reaching
The hearts of those who for redemption fight.
This flower of Beauty feeds the yearning soul,
Of those who crave salvation, to be made whole.

3

ROSE GARDEN

In my rose garden warmly rouged by dawn,
There grow white arum lilies shining too,
Pranked with iris, softly clad in blue.
Radiant roses glow crimson like the morn,
I stroll amongst the fountains; in my view
Such Lady Beauty spoke as Being True.
True in the sense that Art is Beauty born,
To waken souls of men to God divine.

My garden was the threshold to that place,
Well enriched by brilliant bright sunshine.
I felt the gentle hand of blessed grace,
That rose garden was truly Highest Art,
A joy that moved me to the depth of heart.

4
PINK LOTUS

Pink lotus, emblem of Hindu wisdom sage,
Greatest aid to spiritual growth for man.
If one learns their teachings and carefully scan
The practise needed for this Kali Yuga age,
An inner struggle the aspirant must wage.
Pink lotus is rooted in muddy mire, but can
Still open as a bloom of beauty better than
Known by those who're blind to God's Almighty plan.

A soul lived a life of gross indulgence,
But tired of pleasure she turned to learn
Truth necessary for her repentance,
Self Realisation to surely earn.
Her ignorance and sin were fertile ground
To turn within. True wisdom she quickly found.

5

SUN FLOWER

Radiant floral emblem of my Real Self,
Hiding behind her veil. Try then to find
Her, not mischievous monkey mind,
Nor dark demonic perverted elf,
Avaricious for his material pelf,
Egotistic and spiritually blind,
Ever spinning thoughts to weave and wind,
Piling up more luggage on his mental shelf.

The Great Sun in my Self is not like these,
But the Source of Conscious-Awareness Light
Dispersing dark gloom of sad ignorant night,
God-like, the immortal power that frees
Bound soul from its malevolent disease,
Bringing her back home to new heavenly height.

6

FORGET-ME-NOT

Pretty petulant petals of brightest blue,
Petty adornment gracing gardens of love,
Emblem of Adoration to our Great God above,
For Remembering Him is right worship true;
Prayer will bring Him ever closer to you,
As Noah's praise, when he saw a snow white dove,
That showed the end of the flood, which drove
Righteousness from Earth, except for a few.


When Man falls into a dark ditch too low,
God in his mercy sends His messenger down,
To lift up their level in country and town.
Thus we'll never forget Him, even more so,
Remain loyal as His flock, in order to show
Salvation; when we gain Enlightenment' s crown.

Alan Jacobs

MIRROR REFLECTIONS

On the boundless ocean of Self divine,
Billow bounding foam and endless froth of thought,
Muttering about mundane 'me' and 'mine',
Sensual pleasure is what mad ego sought.

But the Self of pure awareness bright,
Reflects ego's dream-like body, mind
And world; all are mirrored by its light.

That's the Truth we're bound to find,
If we simply pose the koan 'who am I'?
Persistence is needed on this sacred quest;
In time the ego topples and must surely die.

All that happens is for the very best,
The Self in all its glory is revealed,
The fractured soul of man is gently healed.


__._,_.___

DIVINE LADY SILENCE

The loving lustrous smile of Divine Lady Mauna,
That most lovely lady of liberation,
Dispels the darkness that obscures Realisation.
Whatever labours fate forces you to complete,
Cherish as pure gold, the worship of her lotus feet.

Through her grace bestowing glance, so auspicious,
The delusions of wealth and family, however propitious,
Like smoke from the chimney, will soon cease to be,
So praise that maiden with the strong wish to be free.

That's the most fitting of all righteous dharmas,
The very best of all desirable karmas.
So cherish as the most lofty brahmacharya,
To live in union with our dear Lady Mauna.

In her presence, don't raise your head as `I',
Or a glimpse of her face, she'll surely belie.
If you remain subject to her domination
She will reunite you with Self Realisation,

Harmoniously and with blissful delight,
Embrace her at heart with all your might.
Let your life in a state of Oneness and bliss,
Be a model for others they won't want to miss.

So merge with Lady Mouna deep in the heart,
The best householder' s dharma, till death do us part.

WHY LAZARUS LAUGHED

"Be still and know that I am God", King David said,
That's all the Knowledge you need to know my friend,
If you wish like Lazarus to waken from the dead.
To Surrender is the beginning and the end.

That's why he laughed, he saw through the cosmic joke;
Life's a bad dream, a clever cunning illusion,
So the Sage's message to all suffering folk,
Is rid yourself from that weird madcap delusion.

He found Unconditional Love, it won all things,
So Lazarus was full of joy and bouyant glee;
About Lord God's gracious majesty he now sings,
For Lazarus is no longer bound by death but free!

VALE OF TEARS

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!

MOVIE SHOW

> On my blank transparent screen, that's so pristine
> Primordial Consciousness, clear and clean,
> Birthless and deathless, I survey the scene.
> I sense it has the semblance of a dream.

> Technicolour pictures come and go
> Endlessly like in a movie show.
> All are creations of this sleeper's mind,
> But I am not that body's brain I find.

> Instead I look behind his watchful eyes
> And then discover to my vast surprise
> That I am that same Consciousness sublime,
> Which is One with Love, and is Divine.

IDEAL WOMAN

True Woman--1. Herself


To be a Sweetness more desired than Spring;
A bodily beauty more acceptable
Than the wild rose-tree's arch that crowns the fell;
To be an essence more environing
Than wine's drained juice; a music ravishing
More than the passionate pulse of Philomel;--
To be all this 'neath one soft bosom's swell
That is the flower of life:--how strange a thing!

How strange a thing to be what Man can know
But as a sacred secret! Heaven's own screen
Hides her soul's purest depth and loveliest glow;
Closely withheld, as all things most unseen,
The wave-bowered pearl,--the heart-shaped seal of green
That flecks the snowdrop underneath the snow.


True Woman--2. Her Love


She loves him; for her infinite soul is Love,
And he her lodestar. Passion in her is
A glass facing his fire, where the bright bliss
Is mirrored, and the heat returned. Yet move
That glass, a stranger's amorous flame to prove,
And it shall turn, by instant contraries,
Ice to the moon; while her pure fire to his
For whom it burns, clings close i' the heart's alcove.

Lo! they are one. With wifely breast to breast
And circling arms, she welcomes all command
Of love,--her soul to answering ardours fann'd:
Yet as morn springs or twilight sinks to rest,
Ah! who shall say she deems not loveliest
The hour of sisterly sweet hand-in-hand?


True Woman--3. Her Heaven


If to grow old in Heaven is to grow young,
(As the Seer saw and said,) then blest were he
With youth for evermore, whose heaven should be
True Woman, she whom these weak notes have sung.
Here and hereafter,--choir-strains of her tongue,--
Sky-spaces of her eyes,--sweet signs that flee
About her soul's immediate sanctuary,--
Were Paradise all uttermost worlds among.

The sunrise blooms and withers on the hill
Like any hillflower; and the noblest troth
Dies here to dust. Yet shall Heaven's promise clothe
Even yet those lovers who have cherished still
This test for love:--in every kiss sealed fast
To feel the first kiss and forbode the last.


Love's Last Gift


Love to his singer held a glistening leaf,
And said: "The rose-tree and the apple-tree
Have fruits to vaunt or flowers to lure the bee;
And golden shafts are in the feathered sheaf
Of the great harvest-marshal, the year's chief,
Victorious Summer; aye, and 'neath warm sea
Strange secret grasses lurk inviolably
Between the filtering channels of sunk reef.

All are my blooms; and all sweet blooms of love
To thee I gave while Spring and Summer sang;
But Autumn stops to listen, with some pang
From those worse things the wind is moaning of.
Only this laurel dreads no winter days:
Take my last gift; thy heart hath sung my praise."


THE last 4 sonnets from Dante Gabriel Rossetti's House of Life Part 1

GOLDEN DAWN

I watched our friendly Father Sun wake up this morn,
A blazing ball of fire, he made a radiant dawn,
Painted with brilliant crimson orange flame,
Great Sun glorified God's sacred awesome Name.
This colour clothes the robe sanyasins wear,
They worship God with loving souls so fair.

We can be inner sanyasins pursuing Truth,
And like the rising Sun of light forsooth,
Shine with blissful Love ever in our hearts,
Reminding us of Him, each new day we start.
We fall in love with Love afresh each morn,
Like that golden ball of flame, which makes our dawn.

SPRING TIME

Persephone slumbers beneath earth's fair ground,
Awakened by the warmth of Sun and cuckoo's sound,
She strikes up the grand symphony of Spring,
Croci and daffodils begin awakening,
Heralding the golden dawn of life's new birth,
When man too can waken from his being's sleep,
And like the snow drop, above soul's mire to peep.
Spring is a gracious and most auspicious time,
When hope rises and fresh visions come sublime

HYMN

The Lord is my shepherd, He feedeth his flock,
He's my redeemer, saviour, fortress and rock;
I shall never want, he fulfills each of my needs,
Spirit or material, he guides all my deeds.

He makes me rest in sweet emerald pastures green,
He leads me beside still silent waters, calmly serene;
He's quick to restore my spirits, both mind and soul,
He guides me on His way to make me happy and whole.

Although I walk through earth's vale of shadowy death,
I'll fear no evil, He resides inside of each breath;
His mighty rod protects me from all hurt and harm,
His staff, as I journey will ward off alarm.

He prepares a wisdom banquet before petty me,
In company of my dread inner enemy,
He's annointed my head with love's sacred oil,
He'll ever be with me through life's troubled toil.

SONG OF 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!
>
> I’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.
> I traced my ego like a zealous hunting hound,
> And found my primal source, the Light of day,
> Now as witness-consciousness you’re free to play.
> So I rest in my Heart, near a sacred mound,
> Where my naked feet tread, is holy ground.
> I've found freedom, joy, bliss and liberty.
> Nothing is. I am God, what more is there to say?
> I’ve glimpsed the truth of Self the Non Dual way!”
>
>
>

THE FLOOD OF SHIVA BLISS

1
May this, my most humble submission be,
To that one great auspicious Deity;
Great Lord Shiva of everlasting fame,
Quintessence of all Jnana is His Name!
He sports on His crown, a silver crescent moon,
Ornament for Uma, such a beauteous boon,
The ripe fruit of harsh severe penitence,
Bestowing His bounteous beneficence.
He wills all devotees to be ever blessed,
And enjoy full noble lives of happiness.
He always appears in the surrendered heart,
Once glimpsed His presence never departs.
He showers all three worlds with perfect love,
A merciful blessing, mighty Grace from above.
2
Victory to the powers of Great Lord Shiva!
Which flow from the blessings of His kind
Removal of sorrow from my mundane mind;
He frees me from great grief of samsara
To know soul’s lagoon flooded by Nirvana.
Such awakening from hypnotic sleep we find
Are streams that cleanse the soul, they wind
Through dense mud and mire of false ajnana.
They cause destruction of pain and sorrow,
We live in the present, no fear for tomorrow.
We thank Shiva with all our might and main,
Chanting His praises for sacred is His Name.
We read the miracles of His great life story,
And bathe in the light of His effulgent glory.



3*
I worship Lord Shiva with all of my heart,
Unknowable through the Vedas! For a start
He destroyed those tyrannical cities three,
Made of iron, silver and gold; to set free
Causal and subtle bodies. Veda His bow,
Agni His barb, Vishnu His well honed arrow;
His feather, the dreaded Lord Yama,
His faithful charioteer, Great God Brahma.
He’s primordial, sighted by three eyes,
He’s majestic and profoundly wise.
His hair’s a profusion of matted locks;
He wears a necklace of snakes, carved from the rocks.
Gracious to every ardent devotee,
He’s the God of souls, Lord of Divinity,
Self of Absolute Consciousness so pure.
With fair Parvati He shall always endure,
To control His three worlds, sagely and sure.

4
Myriads of Gods hold sway over the world,
And grant the prayers of the immature:
Even in dreams at night, I pray to be pure:
To my poor soul, high wisdom He’s unfurled.
What I yearn for, is that He will insure
The worship of His lotus feet, to lure
My mind from grave sin, by senses hurled.
This steady worship of His lotus feet
Is not easy, even for those sitting near
Him, with hearts full of love complete,
Having firm faith and freedom from fear,
Yet fickle mind feels feeble and effete.
It was difficult for Vishnu and Lord Brahma,
Even, Sita, Hanuman, and great Prince Rama.

5
I’m not well versed in legalistic codes,
Nor in learned philosophic tomes,
From sciences, my mind always roams.
Neither in art of music and poetic odes,
Nor reading texts, burdened by heavy loads,
Do I ever feel comfortably at home.
I please Kings no more than an impish gnome,
I’m as little use as a sweeper of roads.
Save this wretched soul through Thy mighty grace!
Omniscient, greatly famed, Oh Holy One,
I pray to see my own original face,
Resplendent as Thy bright effulgent Sun.
Only Thee Lord Shiva can save my errant soul,
To know my own Real Self and make me whole!

6
Whether it be a pot or heavy lump of clay,
Or the microcosmic atom in my breath,
Whether it be smoke, fire or mountain way,
Will any serve as a cure for painful death?
I‘m only blocking love by logic chopping,
I must bow to praise great Lord Shiva’s feet,
But monkey mind keeps dropping off, hopping,
Instead of abiding in His bliss replete.
The heavy means of reason and causation,
Will never take me to Self Realisation,
Instead they lead to endless frustration,
A kind of morbid mental peturbation.
I must take refuge in Lord Shiva’s grace
Inside my heart, True Saviour of the race.

7

Let me rest at your feet, my Lord Supreme,
Soft as the beautiful blue lotus flower.
Let my speech, with all its might and power,
Be prayer to awaken, from life’s sad dream,
And constantly illuminate my inner scene.
Then uttering your praise, I’ll never cower
With fear, or lose the faith, by which Thou endower
My soul by light from Thine effulgent gleam.
Let my palms be clasped, in worship of Thee,
My hearing tuned to the words of Thy story,
My mind in meditation and ever free,
My eyes resting on Thy formless glory.
So through which other senses, will I learn
To become worthy, and Thy grace to earn?

8

Oh Great Almighty God, Lord of All Souls,
As one thinks nacre, seems like silver in a shell,
Or water mixed with flour, looks like milk as well,
A glass bead bauble appears as a crystal bowl,
A mirage we think is just a watering hole;
So the fool, destined for yet another hell,
Worships other than what is Thee; the spell
Of Maya that deceives, Great Lord of the Whole!
The rope we perceive is a venomous snake,
And the stone dog we believe to be real.
We mistake a man for a scarecrow’s stake,
And what we touch seems solid as we feel.
The mind is under a constant delusion,
Save us Lord Shiva from such illusion!

9

Lord of Uma! One swims in a deep tank,
Walks in a fearful, empty jungle wood,
Climbs a mountain peak where fresh air is good,
Pick pretty posies by a river bank,
That fool doesn’t know how to give Thee thanks!
All one needs to do as one truly should,
Is give one’s heart lotus and so be understood.
God does not need to be decked with flowers,
He’s already the beautifully sublime,
These outer forms waste many precious hours;
The true sacrifice which is really prime,
Is to offer one’s mind to the Self in the heart,
That’s all Lord Shiva asks, from the very start!

10

Let there be birth as a human being,
Or a God in some ethereal sphere,
A high mountain where the clouds float near,
Or forest fox from huntsmen ever fleeing,
Or mosquito blood juice always stealing.
Cow, whose lush green grass is ever dear,
Worm, who through mud does craftily steer,
Or bird who through azure sky flies wheeling.
What is this compared to sporting in bliss
From great Lord Shiva’s benefaction?
Receiving the grace of sweet Parvati’s kiss,
All for poor jiva’s endless satisfaction.
If we offer our mind, each night and morn,
Does it matter into which body we’re reborn?

11

Let me be a student, humble as can be,
Or the proud house holder of a home,
An ascetic, plastic as a garden gnome,
Or any other form, as it pleases Thee.
What use is this on the path to liberty?
Oh Sambhu, when the Heart- lotus is Thine
I become yours, no longer ‘me’ or ‘mine’;
One’s burden of life is Thy responsibility.
Whether I dwell in town or mountain cave,
My mind will always wander with me;
The solution Lord Shiva gives to save
And rest at peace, to be eternally free,
Is to surrender ego mind to my own dear Self,
And slay that demonic self-centred elf.

12

Let one live in damp jungle or in fire,
Or on Himalayan mountain peak,
Or whatever place a man may seek.
In a palace, to which great Kings aspire,
Or fabled lands of which the pilgrims speak
Of Vedic Indian, or Platonic Greek;
Of endless speculation we soon tire.
Of what use is such wasteful living?
Instead prostrate at mighty Shiva’s feet,
Endlessly renouncing, and freely giving
Back our minds in full surrender complete.
That’s the only way to make us content,
Ego’s false ignorance we need to relent.

13

Oh Saviour of wretched afflicted souls,
It is Thy duty to protect and guard me,
Thou whom art all compassion and mercy:
I’m blind, roasted over life’s blazing coals,
I boast, foolishly hosting madcap goals,
Who’s the weakest in mental strength Thou sees?
Pray grant me safe refuge and set me free!
Like a poor dove trapped in a gilded cage,
My soul pines to fly and roost at Thy feet;
Remove all my sins of anger and rage,
Help me renounce foul mind and rest complete.
Who’s a better expert in the saving grace?
Lead me to the vision of my original face.

14

Oh Lord of Souls! art Thou not also Lord
And firm friend of the impoverished poor?
In earnest we pray, open wide Thy door
To the music of that merciful chord,
Which Thou can graciously well afford,
To heal our wounded hearts, so sore.
Aid us in practice to move closer toward
Thy Lotus feet and then walk on forward,
To Realisation of the Self for ever more.
All my sins should be forgiven by Thee,
This is the true duty of a loving father,
Willing to help his child, strive for liberty!
Or grant me protection, and play Thy part
Against those thieves, breaking into my Heart.

15

Lord, as Thou are not indifferent to my lot,
Why not destroy that grave decree of fate,
Before death comes, and alas it is too late;
That which makes me wilt. Hast Thou forgot
That unless you save me, there’s a vile plot
Of desires to invade me? then don’t forsake,
Your child before I reach Lord Yama’s gate,
And you’ve failed to sever my ganglion knot.
If you’re powerless, how was Brahma’s head,
Which cannot be plucked by a finger nail,
Be cut by Thee with your nail tip instead?
I pray, Great Lord Shiva, please don’t fail
Your child who tries so hard in this barren place,
And lies powerless without thy boundless grace!

16
Oh Shiva, purest one, may Brahma live long!
Protect and guard his remaining four heads,
He’s ordained the poverty to which I’m led
In this false dream world of right and wrong.
What fear is left for me when I sing this song
And Thy gaze of love, to me has said,
“Have faith, in me , my child, you do belong?
A son is lost and from home does stray,
His father looks for him every where,
Then on one marvellous miraculous day
He’s found and delivered safely there,
Back to his land at blissful peace at last,
Clasped in Lord Shiva’s arms, tight and fast.

17

Oh Master, whom art all pervading,
Either because of my merited deeds,
Or through compassion for my earthly needs;
Thou art immanently present, invading
Each fibre of my soul, not evading
But helping me, when my sad heart bleeds;
For you’ve truly sown salvation’s seeds
The fruits of which are now parading.
How am I to reach Thy sweet lotus feet?
The whole galaxy of Gods press forward
In their eagerness to respect and greet
Thy gracious Self, paying obeisance toward
Thee, with the splendour of Thy golden crown,
Preventing poor me alas, from bending down.

18

Oh Shiva! Thou art the boon giver supreme,
Vishnu and the lesser Gods call upon Thee,
They hold their place through Thy generosity;
How great is Thy grace, and yet we scheme
With increased desires in this crazy dream.
When will you destroy pernicious petty ‘me’,
Through thy gaze of peaceful clemency?
From your dazzling light cast me a single beam.
The Gods pray for you to uphold their gains,
Blessed benefactor of all sentient Beings,
Strengthen and fasten my slack mental reins,
Unite see-er, and seen with all my seeings.
I depend on Thee Lord Shiva for Thy grace,
Accept me, and my false ego pray efface.

19

Is it to benefit great Great Lord Brahma
That you won’t remove my anguish and pain?
Full of despicable desires and shame,
This endless suffering in dark samsara
Even leads to the doors of some crooked Rajah,
An endless storm of troubles, all in vain,
Without virtue, for my poor soul to gain.
Oh what a wretched wicked palaver!
Inform me, oh great Lord Shiva, I pray
If all this grief is only for Thy pleasure,
We shall be gracefully blessed, I say.
I beg for justice as you shall measure,
None of the dark decrees of fate for ill,
Have any true validity before Thy will.

20

Oh Shiva, with bare skull as begging bowl,
Thou art an all pervading, mendicant!
My mind roams the desert of discontent,
Dances on the breast hills of female souls,
Leaps wildly on many mad strange goals,
Branch to branch, where desire will soon torment.
Inconstant is this monkey mind Thou sent
To fight against, and learn firm sense control.
Taking this mind as an offering of alms,
Bind it tightly with Thy cord of devotion,
And tie it well, beneath your loving arms,
As I sail across life’s stormy ocean.
Lord Shiva save me from the terror of my mind!
Thou art the Truest Guru I could ever find!

21

Oh, Slayer of Demons, like Manmatha,
Thou art worshiped by divine devotees.
All pervading One, please enter with these,
And Thy Goddess consort, beauteous Uma,
Into the bright tent of my mental maya,
That boasts free will; a central pole to seize
The ropes of heroic virtues that please,
And can be eased through this dread samsara.
That shining tent is multi toned and hued,
Painted with lotuses, pink, blue and white,
They glow like beacons in the black of night,
Moved daily through highways, and imbued
With prayer for Thy great victory, Jai!
That enlivens me throughout my day.

22
Oh Shankara! Oh skilful master thief!,
Magnificent ever pervading One!
This arch villain of my mind speeds along,
Having fallen prey, beyond all belief,
To amassing great wealth without relief
From greedy desire , committing much wrong,
Rifling homes, to which the rich belong.
All this crime causes me remorse and grief.
How can I bear this unscrupulous knave?
Having brought him under Thy firm control,
Grant me thy Grace, my impure soul pray save,
Oh blessed Lord, please make me Thine, and Whole!
Accept that I my pure Self is innocent,
Oh merciful Lord Shiva, I repent, repent!

23
Ever all-pervading One, oh Shankara!
I perform Thy worship, pray grant poor me,
Realisation now, immediately!
Should Thou grant me the throne of Lord Brahma,
Or God Vishnu as fruit of my Puja,
I would bear more pain of taking the body
Of bird or beast, for sake of being free
And bathing in bliss of blest Nirvana.
How can I bear this agony and pain,
My auspicious beloved Guru Lord?
I beg you over and over again,
With all the strength and might I can afford,
Save me, immortal Shiva, I pray, I pray!
I love you like my own dear Self, every way.

24

When will I dwell in Kailasa, Thy home?
In Thy hall of emeralds, rubies and gold,
Where precious pearls and jewels unfold,
In the company of Thy votaries who roam
With Thee dear Sambhu, beneath Thy sapphire dome,
Who art auspicious wisdom born of old.
My hands I fold, raised on my head, so bold
I salute Thee noble one with this poem.
Oh protect me Lord Shiva, God Supreme,
Let me spend happiness in aeons of time
As if they were seconds, then it would seem
All would be bliss beneath your protection,
So cleanse me, grant me Thy rod of correction.

25

Oh Great Shiva, when shall I behold Thee,
Who boasts a throat of precious peacock blue,
A body that’s embraced by Uma too.
You hold in your hand a cutting axe, so free
To chop down demon ego’s creeping tree.
You own a deer, seated on the mighty thew
Of a powerful Bull so very loyal to You,
And Thy faithful sadhus cry out, hail, hail!
And the wicked demons all fail and wail.
Thy divine attendants dance all around,
Stamping on cosmic time, never to fail
To sanctify Mount Kailasa’s sacred ground.
Oh great Lord Shiva, what more can one say,
I love you more and more every day!

26

Oh dweller on a sacred mountain high,
Beholding Thee and falling at Thy feet,
Pressing them against my head, I am replete
With love for Thee; I wish my ego so to die
Fully surrendered in obeisance to Thy
Holy will, which I once again entreat.
My perverted mind, pray now defeat.
Free me from wilful weeping and mournful cry!
I wish to enjoy that heavenly bliss
Which does not even come to Brahma;
Seal my lips with Parvati’s fragrant kiss,
So I can breath the perfume and aroma
From her blue full blown lotus flowers,
And bathe in blessed grace throughout all hours.

27

Lord Shiva, Mountain Dweller is Thy name,
When gold Mount Meru is in Thy hands as bow,
When Lord of wealth Kubera, of great fame
Stays near Thee as they slave, it is the same
As when the heavenly trees bow down low
And cow Nandini kneels in obesaince, so
I wish granting gems on Thy head to glow,
Rubies, pearls, sapphires, diamonds so bright,
Topaz, garnet, all reflecting Thy light,
When at Thy feet in worship, all devotees came,
Full of devotion their sacred souls complete.
What tribute can I hand Thee, mighty Lord?
May my mind be surrendered at thy feet,
I give you all the love I can afford.
May my heart and mind be always sworn to Thee,
Oh mighty Lord who swears to set me free!

28

Shiva! beautiful Parvati’s faithful consor,
Adores Thee, yet same and equal is Her form,
Near Thee, as chanting praises, is Her norm,
She shares Thy mountain home, takes careful thought,
In satsang with devotees who’ve bravely fought
The hard war with ego-mind and have worn
Thy breast plate of Sadhana, no longer forlorn,
Filled with love and devotion as they ought.
They meditate on Thy auspicious Name,
Comprising all sentient, conscious Beings,
Moving and still, while disdainful of fame,
Uniting all seers, scenes and their seeings.
Here, indeed my Master I’ve reached my end,
With thanks, I bow before Thee, prostrate and bend.

29
All pervading One, I worship at Thy feet,
Sacred and holy as the lotus blue,
I meditate on Thee by day all through;
I take refuge in Thee, that art my Lord complete.
Oh holy Sambhu! blessed Paraclete,
With power of words I pray to Thee, so true,
Cast Thy mighty glance of grace on me too.
That gaze which even Gods pray they shall meet.
Instruct my mind and make it ever cling to Thee,
Make me worthy of Thy beneficial Grace,
I prostrate myself, and fall to bend my knee,
Grant me the glory of the vision of Thy face!
Instruct in happy peace my wayward mind,
Thou art the greatest God one could ever find!

30

Oh Shiva, the One, who sports the new Moon
As Thy crest jewel! Oh Lord of all souls,
O Master Guru of three worldly wholes;
If there be in my Self, light of the Sun, soon
By its thousand beams I will dress you in tunes
Of song, decked by flowers in golden bowls,
That I may render Thee worship as my goal.
Like Visnu, Vayu, Agni, Indra, with their boons.
I shall offer to you as tasty fitting food
My ego, well cooked in the blazing fire
Of Thy Jnana, well spiced by my gratitude;
To this consummation, I ardently aspire.
Thou art infinity, I can only praise Thee
Rising to the height of Gods in liberty.

31

Oh Shiva! Is not this single supreme deed
Of aid enough to praise Thy compassion?
Residing inside Thy mountain mansion,
With a view to protecting Thy Beings’ seed
Moving and unmoving, yet conscious indeed.
In Thy throat Thou swallows in Thy fashion,
That fearful poison of unbridled passion,
And save us from our sins of lust and greed.
Thus Thy throat is tinted bright peacock blue,
As a sign to all Thy children young and old,
That thy mercy extends to all that Thou do.
This is Thy sworn promise, so we are told,
To save earnest devotees when ripe, in time.
Oh mighty Shiva, Thy compassion is sublime!

32

Sambhu! how did vile poison catch alight,
Causing fear to all the Gods known by Thee?
How was it borne in thy palm so craftily?
Like a ripe, red rose apple; a wondrous sight
Which thrills, blushing like dawn, after darkest night?
Or like a strong medicine used skilfully
By Siddhas? was it held mightily tight
In Thy throat? Was it a gem, blue and bright
As the sapphire sky, our dome of beauty?
Tell me my Loved One! The ways of your duty
Surpasses my mortal understanding.
So my Lord, I am humbly demanding,
Please tell me Sambhu if it’s really true,
World poison stained your throat, a vibrant peacock blue?

33

Oh my Master! Is it not sufficient
For folk to serve Thee without frustration,
By chanting praise and making prostration,
Worship, meditation, are all most efficient,
Self Enquiry, surrender, are they not sufficient?
Hearing your story with horripilation,
Having sight of Thee in my imagination;
How is release possible for one so nescient?
What’s the use of following gods who are all
Impermanent? and to whom should we pray?
With all my heart, Oh Shiva, hear my call,
I yearn for Thy blessed Grace every day!
“The answer my friend”, Great Lord Shiva said,
“Is in thine own Self, I am That , and thou art led!”

34

Shiva? What more can we say about Thy story?
Who else possesses such courage and power?
How can we find the strength to endower
Ourselves with such splendid might and glory?
World destruction, which is always so gory
When even Gods fall, might come at any hour,
Ascetics are seized with fear, and glower
At such an end to their lives and history.
Yet, Thou does revel fearless, all alone,
In felicity blissfully dance and stamp,
All we can do for our grave sins is to atone,
Seeking the bright light of Thy Jnana lamp.
Pray don’t leave us in our time of great need,
We yearn for grace, mercy and help indeed!

35

Shiva! Thou takes care of all Thy Beings,
For their welfare and spiritual advance,
Intent on good giving; that is Thy stance!
Thou teaches the way of divine seeing,
All pervading, determined on freeing
Devotees from sad samsara’s wild prance,
Stamping, whirling; such is Thy dance ,
All pervading inside and out; ever revealing
Thou art my inmost pure conscious Self,
That I always keep in my sacred heart.
Thou will conquer my vile demonic elf
Before I die, and from life must depart.
Oh Lord Shiva! Majestic King of Kings,
Of your great glory my soul ever sings

36

Entwine me with the cord of devotion,
Fill me with the sacred waters of joy,
The shining vessel of monkey mind’s toy.
I whom am a devotee still in motion,
Place two tender leaves as a notion
Of obeisance at Thy feet, never to cloy.
The ripe cocoanut of wisdom will alloy
Me with Thy holy words of fervent emotion.
Purify the house of my bodily frame,
Thus do I perform this most sacred rite,
Occasioning the bounty of Thy Name!
This is the purification of that place,
Preparing me to receive Thy boundless grace!

37

Intelligence is our churning rod,
Firmly attached to ardent devotion.
Those of good heart churn the green-blue ocean
Of scripture, searching for the hidden pod
Of subtle meaning leading them to God;
Gaining from the Moon in ceaseless motion
The wish fulfilling tree, a happy notion
Leading to the cow of plenty, however odd.
The wish yielding magical ruby gem,
The sweet ambrosia of eternal bliss,
Goddess Parvati’s blessed garment hem.
All pertain to Her perennial wisdom kiss,
Churning is the essence of Self investigation
Into our True Nature, by hard interrogation.

38

When the clear auspicious silver Moon,
Bearing the figure of the white form deer,
Seen through eastern mountains very near
To twinkling light of stars, so bright in June;
Yet never, ever glimpsed at mid-day noon,
Releasing worlds from darkness and grave fear
Casting her reflection in blue lake so clear.
The churned ocean swells up and very soon,
Living becomes possible for the very good
Diligent in sadhana, intelligent at heart.
We offer ‘ego’ to Lord Shiva as tasty food,
In love and surrender ‘till death do us part.
Then pure Brahman-bliss becomes manifest,
All sins are forgiven, being well confessed.

39

When the merciful Lord of protection,
Who wears a full Moon jewel as his crest,
Is crowned in the celestial city, to be blest
As King of my mind-lotus, choice election
To show Dharma is supreme perfection.
Sin is slain! Passions to which I’ve confessed;
Lust, anger, pride, are successfully suppressed.
Happiness rules as my prime predilection!
The golden apples of wisdom and Jnana,
Grow richly ripe, prolifically abundant.
All is due to the profound power of Shiva,
Evil veiling Self, is now made redundant!

40

Almighty King of the whole universe,
With Thy wondrous legends I take my fill.
Subtle intellect is Thy water mill,
Speech is Thy vessel, poetry Thy verse,
Always a blessing and never a curse
That flows through Thy channels up to the sill,
Always auspicious and never for ill;
Feeding crops of devotion like a kind nurse.
How can there be fear of spiritual thirst
When you feed us with the cup of Thy grace?
Thou, all compassionate are truly the first;
Grant me a glimpse of my original face!

41

Shiva! Almighty conqueror of death,
I am entreated by my wagging tongue,
Monkey mind, head, feet, hands, eyes, ears, and breath,
Which all participate in action, beneath
Thy rule of Selfhood, of which I’ve sung
As Shiva in my heart. Beneath my lung
On the right side of the chest, in the sheath
Of bliss, compassion and perfect peace.
We climb heaven’s ladder by another rung,
Those instruments of flesh all worship Thee,
Full of praise, imploring their full release
From bitter bondage and onto liberty!
I pray, show me the way again and again
To find my Self, in Her grace always to remain.

42

Lord Shiva! Thou art fond of sturdy forts,
Pray remain in the fortress of my mind,
Whose moats are most magnificent. I find
Its ramparts show the courage of thought
To conquer my sins with which I am wrought.
My royal armies are equipped with kind
Sensory gateways far from being blind.
My troops have always bravely fought.
They’re provisioned with the food of Jnana,
And are fully armed and feel complete.
Yet I still wilt in this dungeon of samsara,
Inspite of grace, I their General feel effete.
I beg Thee dear Lord, teach me devotion,
I am drowning in life’s tempestuous ocean.

43

Primeval hunter, dweller in a mountain,
You wander here and there in search of game,
I plead, reside and hunt in me the same.
Within the jungle of my mind’s plantation,
Dwell wild beasts that cause me aggravation!
Such as lechery and desire for fame.
By slaying them, you’ll effectively tame
These disturbances of mental infatuation.
So relish the sport of hunting such wild beasts,
Have the pleasure of a sport well performed,
These creature’s egos are fit game for your feasts,
Their brutality is speedily reformed.
Lord Shiva, great hunter with Thy spear of gold,
Stalk these monsters as Thou did in days of old!

44

Deep down in the mountain cave of my heart
Dwells the Great God with different faces five,
Wielding a wild deer in His hand alive.
Thou who has slain the elephant demon! Start
With the tiger devil, bind him in a cart
And drag him through the busy city’s streets
So all may admire Thine astounding feats,
Let all see how well Thou played the hero’s part.
Thou art a great hunter, so where is fear for me?
I have firm faith that you will always slay
Demons that enter my mind and terrorise
My better self which strives each hour and day,
To love, adore and be fit to Self Realise.,
That Self Awareness for which we toil and pray,
To serve the Self, which is Shiva, in every way!

45

Oh proud, preening parrot ego-bird,
Rest always in the nest of the lotus feet
Of Shiva, where shrewd scholars all compete
To hearken to his every sagacious word,
Which is eternal, and only truly heard
By those devotees who are fully replete
In Jnana Knowledge, wise and complete;
Shiva’s great teaching is by them preferred.
His soothing words remove all sad sorrow
And shine with the bright light of felicity.
So end stupid wandering off tomorrow,
And enjoy the bliss of His perspicacity.
I am sick and weary of futile pursuit,
I love the truth of Shiva’s wisdom’s fruit.

46

Oh mind, when focused, you’re a regal swan;
Nest in His magic mountain residence,
At Parvati’s feet, where Her sacred incense
Curls up to heaven. Its fragrance falls upon
All who worship Shiva, mighty as the Sun.
Rubies and pearls encrust the golden fence
Which hides the wives of holy saints who sense
The wonder of Shiva, the glorious One.
It’s at His feet that the Sages prostrate,
Surrendering mind in fear and awe,
Anxious to avert that terrible fate
Of rebirth in samsara again once more.
All pray and plead for Lord Shiva’s grace,
And catch a glimpse of his auspicious face.

47

In the radiant rose garden of my heart,
In my sunny summertime of meditation,
A hymnal chant I sing in adoration.
The white lilies of devotion impart
Their scent, welcoming an earnest start
To prune the growths of grievous dissipation,
Heralding the task of mental regulation,
Then worship blooms to form a sacred part.
The sweet apple of Self Knowledge and bliss,
Pure Awareness, is a joyful juicy fruit
Sealed with Divine Parvartis’ blessed kiss.
She fulfils the magic of my Self pursuit.
Bold beauty adorns my silent bower of peace
In the ardent arbour of my Soul’s release.

48

In the nest of mind, the best of swans,
Cruise to the calm lake of God recollection,
A reservoir of infinite satisfaction,
Blossoming with water lilies, whose Sun
Kissed blooms, welcome the Enlightened One,
Set in the hearts of Saints, making prostration
At Shiva’s feet of supreme domination:
To seek His safe refuge they always run.
His sacred waters will cleanse my sin,
So why pollute myself in muddy pools,
Slaving to the vile desires of stupid fools;
A maddening pastime one can never win.
Better to bathe in Shiva’s Godlike grace
The effects of such folly he will soon efface.

49

May the rose flower of firm devotion
Yield me fruitful hips that I always desire,
A bud well fed by love to which I aspire;
An endless flow of heartfelt emotion,
Deeper and wider than the sea-green ocean.
The rose climbed from Shiva’s feet, I so admire,
Rich with shoots that wind round my inward byre
Of constancy and faithful affirmation.
The crimson blooms cover my mental porch,
They are without blemish and full of fire,
Any sins and failing they quickly scorch,
Raising my vile mind from its muddy mire.
Why am I always in such a hurry
Scurrying in mind’s cow sheds of slurry?

50

I praise the Arjuna tree, a linga
At Sri Saila, with white jasmine entwined
On that beautiful mountain, on which we find
Parvati embracing her Great Lord Shiva;
Auspicious, like His teaching of Vedanta.
Around His neck writhing serpents wind,
Yet Shiva is all merciful and most kind,
Are not his sons Ganesha and Skanda?
Eager humming bees gather around,
Buzzing with their truly glorious sound
Of Om, most sacred primordial word,
That this vast universe has ever heard.
All join in chanting Great Lord Shiva’s praise,
He guards and protects us throughout our days.

51

Bhramarambika, all pervading Lord of ease,
The Bee whose hive sits on Sri Saila hill,
Dancing to the tune of Sage Bhrngin’s will,
Who follows the lead of the Queen of Bees,
And quelled the pride of a demon, Her to please.
An Elephant which drank rut up to his fill,
He wallowed in the time of spring until,
He willed to stay at rest, at last in peace.
The very memory of this sacred linga,
Bestows on devotees special merit,
For such is the grace of Great Lord Shiva,
That with certain faith they will inherit
The auspicious gift of Brahman Nirvana!
That bee is a friend of the God of love,
And sips sweet nectar from flowers above.

52
Oh Shiva! Lord with peacock blue throat,
I adore Thee! Thou sports snakes to boast
And show me Thy greatness; yet divine love
Is Lord Shiva’s chief virtue! From above
He reigns supreme to pilot our boat
Steering us across life’s ocean afloat
To reach Liberation, free as a dove!
That cosmic peacock has a crest of sky,
Parvati is his precious pea hen,
His teaching’s the pyre on which false me shall die,
Om is His primordial sound emblem.

54

I love that peacock blue throated wonder
Whose scintillating dance of prancing feet
In summer’s heat, sends rolls of drumming beats,
Tapped by Vishnu’s rumbling clouds of thunder.
His forked lightning frightens folk asunder,
Clouds shed tears of grace as rain complete;
Uma as Peahen Goddess gets from Her seat,
Such beauty to share, joys without number.
I sing in praise of our sage Lord Shiva
Whom with gracious Uma as his wife,
Upholds the righteous path of Dharma
And ordains the Karma of earthly life.
Such is the power of His divinity
A guide for humanity for all infinity.

55

May my humble obeisance be to Thee
Oh Sambhu, Lord with many matted locks
Thou art the primal cause; Thou scoffs and mocks
At sceptics of Thy great Divinity,
Limitless light that shines to infinity,
Thou art recognised by red mountain rocks,
Oh mover of psychic obstacles and blocks.
With Thee in our hearts, we find affinity,
Thou art sole subject of our meditation.
The lesser Gods all praise Thy Holy Name,
In Jnana Knowledge Thou art the summation,
In the hearts of Devotees Thou art the flame.
Thou art the weaver of the veil of Maya,
Skilled dancer of the cosmos, blessed Shiva!

56

Matted haired Shiva! Thou art eternal!
Embodied in the Gunas, qualities three;
Raw activity, dull passivity,
And neutral clarity supernal.
Thou art both paternal and maternal!
The true nature of pure consciousness; free
To create three worlds by Maya magically,
Ending them after each era dies, terminal!
Thou art directly perceived by Sages,
Thou inspires each hallowed Advaitic text,
Thou art the refuge and rock of ages,
Oh Great Lord Shiva what follows next?
Thou art engaged in prancing a cosmic dance,
Freedom for devotees, is their happy chance.

57

Lord of all souls, perfect pervading One!
I flatter rich folk in my zest for wealth,
I stuff my belly, bad for mental health,
I wander in vain seeking futile fun,
Avoiding right effort I run and run,
Evading your grace by devious stealth,
I fail to benefit the commonwealth.
All is such vanity under the Sun,
Yet through Thy compassion in spite of all
Sins, through merit earned in a former life,
As my Guru within, you prevent my fall,
Saving me from tense trouble and strife.
I am ever thankful for your protection,
I prostrate to thee in grateful subjection.

58

Oh Great Lord of Souls, dearest dazzling Light
To vanquish my jet black darkness and its shades,
Help me before my ardour fades
Become visible, blaze with all Thy might!
Illuminate me from Thy commanding height.
Aid me before my ardent ardour fades.
Sense thieves continue brazen burgling raids:
Oh Great Lord Shiva take pity on my plight!
Thine effulgence exceeds a crore of Suns,
Why then cloud Thy brilliant Self from me?
Destroy base ignorance, make vile demons run
Away; permit my Soul freedom to dwell in Thee.
Pray destroy my egotism and make me whole,
Let Self Realisation be my destined goal!

59

Oh Lord of Souls! Vast all pervading One,
Worthy consort of Parvati divine;
As Cartaka birds always moan and whine
For heavy clouds of rain, which veil the Sun,
And lotus tanks are yearned for by the swan,
And Cakora birds for Moon beams; so I pine
To touch Thy holy lotus feet sublime.
Which will be reached by that path on which we run;
Thy great teaching of the Jnana Marga,
That yields the bliss of sheer perfection.
That’s Thy blessed gift for me, Oh Shiva,
To Thee I surrender humbly in subjection.
By the fine example of these fabulous birds,
Accept my sonnet’s feelings, if not their words.

60

A man dragged by the current seeks the shore,
The weary walker, the cool shade of a tree,
The soul afraid of sin finds refuge in Thee.
The steel magnet attracts metallic ore,
The faithful wife to her Lord, flies in awe,
Creepers cling to the tree, that’s strong and free,
The river races to its source the sea;
So I yearn for Thee Lord Shiva, more and more!
Oh mind, reach the Lotus feet of the Lord!
Ever stay there; that is real devotion.
Let restless mind be held by Bhakti’s cord,
To know the bliss of Lord Shiva’s ocean.
Pray bless me with Thy Grace of Constancy,

61

Seeds of Ankola trees stick to the tree,
The one afraid of rain shelters under a roof,
Guests rest with the householder unaloof.
The poor receive from generous charity,
Those fearful of night will light their lamps brightly,
The cold take warmth from fire; all brings proof
How Thy protection is beyond reproof,
As these similes illustrate quite rightly.
Oh mind, reach the feet of Shiva with ease,
This will drive away all its needless fear
And gain Thy blessing of blissful peace,
Such is Thy boundless Grace, I hold so dear.
Oh Great Shiva grant me Thy protection,
And relieve me from direst dereliction.

62

As a mother’s devotion guards her child,
The roar of Shiva’s conch, all sin will efface;
By smearing sacred ash upon one’s face
And cladding oneself in purity mild,
Freed from the world, by which soul was defiled.
I’ll be cleansed of guilt without any trace!
Such is the power of Lord Shiva’s grace,
Formidable God so fierce and so wild.
He gives rest in prayer and contemplation,
The mantra of his sacred name will keep
Away thieves which besiege meditation.
Oh Lord Shiva I plead for just one peep
Of they magnificent effulgent glory,
To end the shame of my personal story.

63

Kannappars sandals worn out on forest ways,
Became his mark between the eye brows,
Of the blessed body of the Lord of Hours.
The libation of water held in place
In his mouth became a bath of grace
For the Victor of Cities whose powers
Showed how Great Lord Shiva towers
Overall. That huntsman took first place
Of Shiva’s devotees; Kannappar the saint,
Who gave Him an eye so he could rest
In His fair breast, never prone to faint
From weariness or fade away distressed.
Kannappar was His servant beyond compare,
Beloved by Shiva for such Devotion so rare!

64

Oh Sambhu! Kicking at Lord Yama’s chest,
Destroyer of ignorant Apasmara,
Hovering around on Mount Kailasa;
Ruffling the crowns of Gods, at Thy behest
Worn on shaven heads for Thee to bless.
Such is the task of Thy path of Jnana
But is this proper, I ask Thee, Lord Shiva?
Please wear the sandals of my mind, confessed.
Oh dear Lord Shiva, I am now convinced,
The fruit of ‘moksha’ is easily reaped
Through Devotion, as Thou has evinced
By the wealth of grace, which Thou hast heaped
On Devotees, struggling for liberation:
Great Shiva frees me from my consternation.

65

Consort of beloved Uma, Goddess of Love,
Nothing’s impossible for Thee, whose mind
Worships Thy illustrious feet. We find
Seeing Thee, Yama flees, afraid of a shove
Which will send him flying high up above.
The lesser Gods all wave their lamps behind
Thee; while the gentle Mukti Bride, so kind,
Embraces them wherever they may rove.
The place of Devotees is above the Gods,
Because of your loving and gracious care,
Although that may appear to be most odd,
It is the experience of all who dare
To attain deliverance from dread samsara;
Such is Thy greatness my dear Lord Shiva!






66

Oh Sambhu! Thou creates Thy worlds in play,
Thy inhabitants are Thy sportive game,
Every gracious deed performed in Thy Name,
Is for Thy pleasure alone, the Sages say,
It’s certain, that my deeds everyday,
Are only to exalt Thy righteous fame;
Thy protection is all I rightfully claim,
Oh Lord, for Thy mercy I pray, I pray and pray!
I enquire, what’s the nature of Thy sport?
Is it a game of love or shuttlecock?
My reason tells me in the last resort,
Your aim is to untie my bondage knot
With fingers of compassionate grace,
That one day I may view Thy eternal face.

67

I seek the placid peaceful contemplation
Of Great Lord Shiva, in the joyful land
Of silent auspicious meditation,
Freed from painful mental consternation,
Where I can join that glorious band
Of ardent loving devotees, and
Rejoice in festive jubilation;
Praising Thee in endless glorification,
Knowing Thou holds us in Thy gracious hand.
We enjoy the tears and precious thrills
Engendered by many heartfelt delights
Which protect us from all bodily ills,
As Thou leads us from darkness into light.
Reciting Thy Name is a fruitful field
To force ego’s surrender and to Thee yield!

68

Oh Lord of Souls; Oh compassionate One!
Protect this beauteous cow of mine, Devotion.
From Thy luscious grass, she strays in motion;
Make her yield the delight, second to none,
Milk of Jnana, the best beneath the Sun.
Pardon her ignorant arrogation,
Loving the ‘I am the body’ notion,
Lead her to Thy feet when all is said and done,
Devotion is the precious fruit of deeds
Well performed in an earlier life;
On her merit my cow earnestly feeds,
Free her from all trouble, sorrow and strife.
Let me churn her good milk of devotion,
To the cream of Jnana, a potent potion!

69

I’m not inert like some slovenly sloth,
Nor impure like some smelling cess pool drain,
Nor am I crooked like a burglar’s brain,
Even if I be either, none, all or both,
Oh Great Lord Shiva I’m indeed loath
To claim, “am I not fit just the same,
To always worship Thy sacred name
And serve Thee as an ornamental broach?
Oh Lord Shiva Thou sport a crescent moon;
In spite of all my defects great and small,
Your everlasting mercy, will surely soon
Regard my sins as nothing much at all.
Thou art all compassion, beyond compare,
In Thy bountiful largesse, I wish to share!

70

Whether in the open, beneath the sky,
Or in the cloister of my closeted room,
Thou art easy to live with: bye and bye
Thou shall save me from false sense of ‘me’ and ‘my’.
You weave time with space, on Thy cosmic loom,
And create a world of illusion, soon
To be destroyed, when only Thou knows why,
When this insentient body will end and die.
But Thy merciful grace will avert such doom,
For your devotees brought to Realisation
Who practice Self Enquiry and Surrender
Finally reach enlightened liberation,
And to Thee their roasted ego’s render.
Oh dear Lord Shiva, Thou art beyond all praise,
Thou brings supreme joy, into mournful days!

71
Great Lord Shiva’s unfailing sharp arrows,
Fixed to the bow of deepest meditation,
Bent with the string of firmest devotion;
For devotees with purified mind, He throws
Enemy sinners some powerful blows:
Gaining the balm of a soothing lotion,
Death of the ‘I am the body notion’,
Lord Shiva knows, he knows, he surely knows!
We are urged to be like skilful archers
And strike target-ego’s black bull’s eye;
Then like resolute and doughty marchers,
We reach the goal of moksha before we die.
Gain a good bowman’s skilled ability,
Shiva grants the gift of great stability!

72

There are many friends who have gained their end
And reached they beloved holy lotus feet;
Even for Gods they’re the safest retreat.
They wear serpents as ornaments and bend
Their knees in obeisance to Thee, to fend
Off demonic tendencies they may meet
On their way to Self Realisation so complete.
Oh Shiva, to Thee my love I now do send.,
We find clear vision through Thy ointment
Of meditation, breaking through the black
Dark Ignorance,and make an appointment
With Thee, to remedy all that I lack
In virtue, grace, knowledge and devotion
For Thee; who steers my craft across life’s ocean!

73

Oh good mind! learn to love the lotus feet
Of Supreme Lord Shiva; field for the growth
Of that medicinal herb, which is both
Release and blissful happiness complete;
Desired by all who aren’t weak or effete.
Oh Lord Shiva, I have sworn a mighty oath
To obey Thy gracious rule, and ever clothe
Thee in praise. These poems attempt this feat!
How can I ever thank Thee for such Grace,
Bestowed on one, unmerited and bad;
But that single glance from Thine effulgent face,
Has made me ever grateful and so glad!
I salute Thee, magnificent Lord Shiva,
Who’s willed to help and save this poor Jiva!

74

May the lotus feet of the Lord who sent,
Virtues that are north, south, east and west
Of space, make my Heart’s sacred casket,
Perfumed by that powerful God-like scent,
That overwhelms the bad smell of nescience:
Desire, greed, delusion, lust and the rest
Of those sins, which undermine the best
Virtues of heaven that for Man are meant.
Pilgrim advancing on the mountain trail
Passed a wayside flower, a bramble rose,
He bowed and breathed its fragrance; without fail
It cleansed his polluted mind of all those
Vile impurities which besmirched his state;
He thanked the Lord for such a blessed fate.

75
Oh great destroyer of passionate lust,
Commander of all the different worlds
Into which the suffering soul is hurled,
Rider of the Bull kicking up the dust,
Restrain my mental horse as Thou must!
Which is auspicious and is well impearled
Without blemish like a summer rose unfurled.
A skilled rider mounted the steed of my mind,
And rode him swiftly to salvation’s goal.
There, deep silence in the heart did find,
He saved that poor perverted erring soul.
All praise great Lord Shiva rider of the bull
All is perfection in his sight, all is full.

76

Devotion’s like a cloud sailing in the sky,
An image of the all powerful Lord,
Who showers love and bliss with every word,
Removing from the mind all wail and cry;
A lake whose mind is filled, bye and bye,
With a white swan, a celestial bird,
Whose song of adoration shall be heard
By the ears of almighty God on high.
By devotion the whole crop of life is reaped,
Harvested by toilers in the field of life;
The rain of grace, into the soil has seeped,
The overwhelming flood of love is rife,
On which the raft of liberation floats;
The hymn of victory issues from our throats.

77

Like a husband separated from his wife,
The mind attached to His petalled lotus feet,
Constantly remembers in to be complete
In firmness, grasping for his dearest life,
Walking the razor’s edge, sharp as a knife,
Charmed by His Mantra which he does repeat,
Om namah shivaya to a rhythmic beat,
His heart swells with devotional praise so rife.
Like a priest chanting sacred hymns of praise,
He meditates on good and noble thought,
Fond memories, sights and sounds, all his days,
And the famous stories he has been taught.
Lord Shiva is great in every way,
We think on his glories throughout each day.

78
I pray Lord Shiva every night and day,
Uplift this turgid intellect of mine,
As one would dress a bride in all that’s fine.
Endow her with excellence in such a way,
That brings it to noble service, and a ray
That makes the light of true humility shine
Bright, warm, compassionate and sublime,
Fostering Good as its aim in life’s great play.
At a wedding the pure chaste minded bride,
Swears her allegiance to the husband in love;
So can intellect wed the Self to confide
In the God of power inside and above.
This is the mystical marriage of the Sage,
That maintains world righteousness for this age.

79

Oh Shiva! Thy rosey feet ever gently tread
On the pink lotus petals of Thy lover’s minds;
But Thou kicked at the hard chest-door of dread
Yama, Lord of Death, who strikes each heart and head,,
In this dream of the weary deaf and blind.
My mind ponders on Thy ways, yet to find
An answer to which my errant soul be led.
Bring Thy feet within my sight, and unwind
Thy maze, before alas I too must die,
And be born once more in wretched ignorance,
To fight again in this vale of tears to sigh.
I pray, before I leave, grant another chance
To take hold of your precious blessed feet,
When Self Realised, I shall be complete!

These are some 79 from the 100 verses of The Shivanandalahari,
By Adi Shankara, which I have rendered into rhyme.

THY MIGHTY WILL BE DONE

My hymn is sung to that great and holy One,
Who dwells in splendour, a radiant light,
That shines in every heart, and every Sun
Of Self-effulgent beauty, blazing bright.
Thou art All, and Thy mighty will be done!
Make our actions worthy in Thy holy sight.

Oh Lord, we pray to keep Thee ever in our sight,
Oh Thou, whom we adore, our God, the holy One.
Thy rays of grace and love are always bright
In strength and power, as in the golden Sun.
Keep us from wavering, fix our hearts on light,
Thou art All, and Thy mighty will be done!

Thou art All and Thy mighty will be done!
Not foolish will of ego, lest it darkens sight
And screens us from Thee, oh majestic One.
Thy blinding brilliance of eternity bright
Is stronger, deeper, than summer’s noon-day Sun.
Let’s bathe in Thy blissful balm of blessed light.

Lead us from nescient dark to conscious light!
Thou art All, and Thy mighty will be done!
And ever mindful, we’re resting in Thy sight;
Thou art father, mother, friend, oh holy One,
Thy perennial fire is shining clear and bright,
Deep in our hearts, flames Thy splendid inward Sun.

Thou within us, who hides, is also in the Sun,
Dark clouds are dispelled by thy beacon light.
On bended knee we praise Thee, primordial One,
Who through grace revealed, demists our frosted sight.
Thou art All, and Thy mighty will be done!
Polish the mirrors of our souls, make them bright.

Oh jewel of faith, that sparkles diamond bright,,
And shines fiercely like our bosom friend, the Sun,
Thaw our frigid hearts with warmth and light,
Thou art All and Thy mighty will be done!
Oh, let our deeds be worthy in Thy holy sight,
To hymn our love for Thee, oh great and holy One.

Praise to the wondrous One, burning beryl bright,
Make Thy wisdom light to guide us, as the Sun,
And may Thy will be done, in Thy all knowing sight!

THERE ARE NO SHORT CUTS TO SELF REALISATION

If you are to walk on the path of Self Realisation by seeking the Source of your own Being, you cannot get very far by half-hearted attempts.

There are no shortcuts.

It requires complete dedication to the ideal and strenuous, life long effort in pursuit of ‘That’.

Unless you come to understand that the purpose and goal of life is to Realise the Self, you cannot, in truth, make any meaningful progress, or expect to make much progress.

Bhagavan Ramana Maharshi has said those few who have succeeded in this life time owe their success to perseverance.

That means day in and day out effort, unrelenting.

So whatever method you take up, you have to do sincerely and steadily, for a whole lifetime, if need be.

The path to Self Realisation is a vocation in life, not something we just take up at intervals. Spiritual pursuit must be as vital and natural to one as eating and breathing.

Once we are clear about this point and attempt to realise the Truth with all our heart, Almighty God comes forward and guides us. He makes the situations in our life conducive to spiritual progress.

But we cannot judge this progress easily. No effort ever goes in vain. And if we strive relentlessly, His Grace will take hold of us and carry us to the goal. This is what all true Sadhaks have to do to attain Self Realisation.

If you are unable to commit yourself to this ideal, then pray to God or Bhagavan, to bless and inspire you with sincere determination.

That is all that is within your power. Surrender to him wholeheartedly, and await his Grace.

Also think about the ephemeral nature of all things in life, your experiences, your joys and sorrows- how you are always seeking to grasp a bit of happiness from pursuing and fulfilling desires, but only experience short-lived pleasures in the end, followed by more desires and pursuits.

This is an endless cycle that replays itself, life after life, birth after birth.
Be clear about this, reflect on the underlying Reality and seek it.
No one can do this for you.

Start now with a determined, unrelenting effort.

That is the only way.

By Dennis Hartell, Editor of ‘The Maharshi’ writing in the NewsLetter of th Ramana Maharshi Retreat Centre, Nova Scotia. Posted by Alan Jacobs

NARCISSUS UNBOUND

A GRECIAN ODE

Strophe:

Liriope, raped by the God Cepharus, laid her babe in a cave,
That of Tiresius, half blind prophetic Sage of Ancient Greece.
A wise Stoic soothsayer, and farsighted necromancer grave.
The predestined fate of every human kind he clearly sees.
The aged Sage scrutinised this fair, fine feisty child
Gazing deeply into his sky blue eyes, serenely calm and mild.
“This lad shall live a happy life, unless he comes to see his face!”
The awesome decree scared Liriope who fled, like some creature wild.
She swore no mirrored glass would ever invade her household space!
The sturdy lad grew swiftly to shine as a handsome model youth,
Strong armed, spirited, carefree, honest, loyal to all known truth.
Rings of curls, forthright chin, noble nose, ruby lips, eyes of grace;
He was chased by sultry shepherd maids, and also ardent men
Wanting warm friendship with this bewitching beauty, for then
Now at the tender age of sweet sixteen, he’d never seen his face!

Antestrophe:

Many a swarthy swain and shepherd lass vied for his amorous art;
But beneath his tender calf-like skin lay a hidden pride so hard,
For no one on this Earth who’d tried, had ever touched his heart.
While herding deer into their pens, as some huntsman’s guard,
A mountain nymph with strangest voice saw him strolling in a field;
She could never hold her peace, if she heard any voice she’d yield
To the sudden urge to answer, when that same voice spoke again.
She repeated the last words, she’d overheard and instantly revealed,
That to this tiresome fault she was afflicted, to her everlasting shame.
For Goddess Hera cursed her for seducing Zeus, a plan conceived
To trap the God. Hera shrieked “by you I’ve been betrayed, deceived,
With harsh punishment, for such wicked ways, I’ll, you surely tame!
Only the very briefest use of speech shall you ever now enjoy!”
But poor Echo had seen Narcissus, a true Adonis, a golden boy;
She planned to have this boy, her toy, and enjoy a mating game.

Epode:

Young Narcissus was unaware of his charisma, to allure,
But Echo planned to snare the lad through her sweet desiring gaze;
He’d never seen his ravishing face, so fair, his mind was pure;
Fate now staged her dramatic game which promised great heroic days.

II

Strophe:

When Echo spied her wondrous ‘wunderkind’ wandering through the land,
His golden locks waving, mid red poppies and amber fields of corn,
Her smouldering heart caught fire, flickering flames were quickly fanned,
She stalked him with unceasing stealth, utterly fatigued and worn.
The nearer she approached the fiercer burnt her ardent flame;
Oh how she craved; she called “hello”, to start her playful game.
The youth had lost track of the deer herds prints, amongst the golden grain;
He called “Is any one there?”, then love sick Echo answered back the same.
He looked around and shouted “please come!” and “please come!” she echoed again.
He could see nobody there and called “why run away from me?”
Then he heard his voice return to him, pitched in a much higher key;
He cried “please let’s meet”; “please let’s meet”, her answer came so plain.
She swiftly rushed from the dark pine wood to take him in her arms,
He fled, and cried “stop! whoever touches me will come to harm!
I’ll never grant you such power!” weeping she echoed this refrain.

Antestrophe:

Spurned, Echo lurks in the gloomy forest shade, hiding all her shame;
She cries and pines in her cave, her heart aches with pain and grief,
Sleepless worry swiftly wastes away her anxious ridden frame,
No voices linger on, and her spirit’s slain by sorrow’s thief.
He’d mocked her as he’d mocked many lustful maid and ardent youth.
That night one scorned lad cursed in pain from a huntsman’s booth
“So may he fall in love too, and whom he loves may fail to gain!”
The Gods heard his plea and ordained this would manifest as truth.
Narcissus retired to a woodland pool where no human ever came;
The fresh water was cool, silvery, still, and chrystal mirror clear;
Tired from herding roving deer he sat down to rest right here,
Falling asleep he dreamed he needed drink , and woke up again.
Feeling parched he took a sip to slake his thirst with water cool,
Then his gaze was struck by an awesome sight in the centre of the pool,
A face beyond all beauty, he fell in love, a love which has no name.

Epode:

Echo, her body wasted, remained a voice to haunt our world,
Narcissus lies, seduced by his own reflection in a pool.
Now this comic play will swiftly be enacted and unfurled,
To fall in love with one’s own face, is the hallmark of a fool!

III

Strophe:

He studied well that face of perfect beauty with awe, amazed!
‘Twas like some statue of a noble God, carved in marble white,
Its sparkling sapphire eyes twinkled like stars; at all he gazed.
‘Twas wondrous, blushing cheek mingling with tingling skin, so bright,
Now blinking, then winking, its neck stood firm on a well built chest.
Had any thinking man, born by nature, ever been so blest?
Like Apollo, there glowed glory from this most glamorous face.
He admired, suspired, adored, desired…..how , now to see the rest?
He turned his neck so slightly, shifting from his comfy place,
To his great surprise, the young god turned very slightly too.
He pursed his ruby lips to kiss the face, to love him, and to woo,
His passion quickened, his palpitating heart began to race,
He stared again, the awesome god had pursed his lips as well!
Suddenly, insight dawned clearly through his mind like a chiming bell,
That face he loved, must be his very own! Oh! such astounding grace.

Antestrophe:

Neither food, duty, rest nor sleep could tempt him from this spot,
He yearned with hungry lustful eyes that could never have their fill,
He burned with love for his own treasured face, fanning passion hot,
Then suddenly arose a fear that queerly made him feel quite ill;
He could never enjoy being the lover of some portrait in a pool.
Grief came, it sadly sapped his frame, as if he’d stamped a mile,
He’d be denied the object of his love, how ruthless, oh how cruel!
The Gods would make him sorely suffer as if he was on trial,
To die! to die for his beloved! Was this to be his dismal fate?
His anxious nerves were knocked askew, he tasted bitter bile.
Then he saw a greybeard, an ancient sage, come limping up his way,
Very old and bent, half blind, who it was he couldn’t say.
“I am Tiresius, I’ve come to help you boy, so rest with me a while.”

Epode:

The Gods had intervened to save Narcissus from an aweful fate,
The Seer who foretold, “if you see your face, you’ll meet your death,”
Had arrived in the very razor’s edge of time before too late,
He’d come to aid this suicidal lad, to save his soul and breath.

IV

Strophe:

“So you’re identified with your face, a picture in a pool,
That’s a bad mistake my lad, I shall try to tell you why,
If you think that;s who you truly are, you’re simply just a fool!
Real Truth is better, wake up from delusion, before you come to die!
You think you’re that body-mind, and Narcissus is its name,
A handsome boy, the girls adore, but that’s a pitiful shame.
Now gaze at me attentively, and tell me what you see.”
“I see your face, a grizzly, old greybeard, a body, halt and lame.”
“Do you see your own face now, or just that ageing head called ‘me’?”
“Only one face is there Tiresius, of course I can’t see mine.”
“Good, let’s pause at that Narcissus, you’re doing rather fine.
Now ask ‘who sees?’ aren’t you looking out from space and vacancy,
From a one eyed window without a frame, Consciousness of course;
That is who you truly are, pure Consciousness perforce!
Now listen well, and question more, I’ll surely set you free!”

Antestrophe:
“The notion ‘I’m just that body-lump is folly of the fool,
To know ‘I’m Consciousness playing Narcissus’, that’s wise!
You’re glued to that image, your face reflected in a pool.
That’s untrue, a mistaken fancy, a deceptive pack of lies;
To be free and live your life from the Reality of Truth
You must know what you’re looking out of lad, forsooth!

Epode

Narcissus realised he wasn’t that handsome image in the pool,
To fall deeply in love with his own lovely, handsome pretty face
Was the action of a silly stupid, gormless gullible fool,
Tiresius had taught him the Truth, oh such an act of Grace!

[Note: This Grecian Ode is based on the ideas of Douglas Harding, Author of ‘Living Without A Head’].















NARCISSUS UNBOUND

A GRECIAN ODE

Strophe:

Liriope, raped by the God Cepharus, laid her babe in a cave,
That of Tiresius, half blind prophetic Sage of Ancient Greece.
A wise Stoic soothsayer, and farsighted necromancer grave.
The predestined fate of every human kind he clearly sees.
The aged Sage scrutinised this fair, fine feisty child
Gazing deeply into his sky blue eyes, serenely calm and mild.
“This lad shall live a happy life, unless he comes to see his face!”
The awesome decree scared Liriope who fled, like some creature wild.
She swore no mirrored glass would ever invade her household space!
The sturdy lad grew swiftly to shine as a handsome model youth,
Strong armed, spirited, carefree, honest, loyal to all known truth.
Rings of curls, forthright chin, noble nose, ruby lips, eyes of grace;
He was chased by sultry shepherd maids, and also ardent men
Wanting warm friendship with this bewitching beauty, for then
Now at the tender age of sweet sixteen, he’d never seen his face!

Antestrophe:

Many a swarthy swain and shepherd lass vied for his amorous art;
But beneath his tender calf-like skin lay a hidden pride so hard,
For no one on this Earth who’d tried, had ever touched his heart.
While herding deer into their pens, as some huntsman’s guard,
A mountain nymph with strangest voice saw him strolling in a field;
She could never hold her peace, if she heard any voice she’d yield
To the sudden urge to answer, when that same voice spoke again.
She repeated the last words, she’d overheard and instantly revealed,
That to this tiresome fault she was afflicted, to her everlasting shame.
For Goddess Hera cursed her for seducing Zeus, a plan conceived
To trap the God. Hera shrieked “by you I’ve been betrayed, deceived,
With harsh punishment, for such wicked ways, I’ll, you surely tame!
Only the very briefest use of speech shall you ever now enjoy!”
But poor Echo had seen Narcissus, a true Adonis, a golden boy;
She planned to have this boy, her toy, and enjoy a mating game.

Epode:

Young Narcissus was unaware of his charisma, to allure,
But Echo planned to snare the lad through her sweet desiring gaze;
He’d never seen his ravishing face, so fair, his mind was pure;
Fate now staged her dramatic game which promised great heroic days.

II

Strophe:

When Echo spied her wondrous ‘wunderkind’ wandering through the land,
His golden locks waving, mid red poppies and amber fields of corn,
Her smouldering heart caught fire, flickering flames were quickly fanned,
She stalked him with unceasing stealth, utterly fatigued and worn.
The nearer she approached the fiercer burnt her ardent flame;
Oh how she craved; she called “hello”, to start her playful game.
The youth had lost track of the deer herds prints, amongst the golden grain;
He called “Is any one there?”, then love sick Echo answered back the same.
He looked around and shouted “please come!” and “please come!” she echoed again.
He could see nobody there and called “why run away from me?”
Then he heard his voice return to him, pitched in a much higher key;
He cried “please let’s meet”; “please let’s meet”, her answer came so plain.
She swiftly rushed from the dark pine wood to take him in her arms,
He fled, and cried “stop! whoever touches me will come to harm!
I’ll never grant you such power!” weeping she echoed this refrain.

Antestrophe:

Spurned, Echo lurks in the gloomy forest shade, hiding all her shame;
She cries and pines in her cave, her heart aches with pain and grief,
Sleepless worry swiftly wastes away her anxious ridden frame,
No voices linger on, and her spirit’s slain by sorrow’s thief.
He’d mocked her as he’d mocked many lustful maid and ardent youth.
That night one scorned lad cursed in pain from a huntsman’s booth
“So may he fall in love too, and whom he loves may fail to gain!”
The Gods heard his plea and ordained this would manifest as truth.
Narcissus retired to a woodland pool where no human ever came;
The fresh water was cool, silvery, still, and chrystal mirror clear;
Tired from herding roving deer he sat down to rest right here,
Falling asleep he dreamed he needed drink , and woke up again.
Feeling parched he took a sip to slake his thirst with water cool,
Then his gaze was struck by an awesome sight in the centre of the pool,
A face beyond all beauty, he fell in love, a love which has no name.

Epode:

Echo, her body wasted, remained a voice to haunt our world,
Narcissus lies, seduced by his own reflection in a pool.
Now this comic play will swiftly be enacted and unfurled,
To fall in love with one’s own face, is the hallmark of a fool!

III

Strophe:

He studied well that face of perfect beauty with awe, amazed!
‘Twas like some statue of a noble God, carved in marble white,
Its sparkling sapphire eyes twinkled like stars; at all he gazed.
‘Twas wondrous, blushing cheek mingling with tingling skin, so bright,
Now blinking, then winking, its neck stood firm on a well built chest.
Had any thinking man, born by nature, ever been so blest?
Like Apollo, there glowed glory from this most glamorous face.
He admired, suspired, adored, desired…..how , now to see the rest?
He turned his neck so slightly, shifting from his comfy place,
To his great surprise, the young god turned very slightly too.
He pursed his ruby lips to kiss the face, to love him, and to woo,
His passion quickened, his palpitating heart began to race,
He stared again, the awesome god had pursed his lips as well!
Suddenly, insight dawned clearly through his mind like a chiming bell,
That face he loved, must be his very own! Oh! such astounding grace.

Antestrophe:

Neither food, duty, rest nor sleep could tempt him from this spot,
He yearned with hungry lustful eyes that could never have their fill,
He burned with love for his own treasured face, fanning passion hot,
Then suddenly arose a fear that queerly made him feel quite ill;
He could never enjoy being the lover of some portrait in a pool.
Grief came, it sadly sapped his frame, as if he’d stamped a mile,
He’d be denied the object of his love, how ruthless, oh how cruel!
The Gods would make him sorely suffer as if he was on trial,
To die! to die for his beloved! Was this to be his dismal fate?
His anxious nerves were knocked askew, he tasted bitter bile.
Then he saw a greybeard, an ancient sage, come limping up his way,
Very old and bent, half blind, who it was he couldn’t say.
“I am Tiresius, I’ve come to help you boy, so rest with me a while.”

Epode:

The Gods had intervened to save Narcissus from an aweful fate,
The Seer who foretold, “if you see your face, you’ll meet your death,”
Had arrived in the very razor’s edge of time before too late,
He’d come to aid this suicidal lad, to save his soul and breath.

IV

Strophe:

“So you’re identified with your face, a picture in a pool,
That’s a bad mistake my lad, I shall try to tell you why,
If you think that;s who you truly are, you’re simply just a fool!
Real Truth is better, wake up from delusion, before you come to die!
You think you’re that body-mind, and Narcissus is its name,
A handsome boy, the girls adore, but that’s a pitiful shame.
Now gaze at me attentively, and tell me what you see.”
“I see your face, a grizzly, old greybeard, a body, halt and lame.”
“Do you see your own face now, or just that ageing head called ‘me’?”
“Only one face is there Tiresius, of course I can’t see mine.”
“Good, let’s pause at that Narcissus, you’re doing rather fine.
Now ask ‘who sees?’ aren’t you looking out from space and vacancy,
From a one eyed window without a frame, Consciousness of course;
That is who you truly are, pure Consciousness perforce!
Now listen well, and question more, I’ll surely set you free!”

Antestrophe:
“The notion ‘I’m just that body-lump is folly of the fool,
To know ‘I’m Consciousness playing Narcissus’, that’s wise!
You’re glued to that image, your face reflected in a pool.
That’s untrue, a mistaken fancy, a deceptive pack of lies;
To be free and live your life from the Reality of Truth
You must know what you’re looking out of lad, forsooth!

Epode

Narcissus realised he wasn’t that handsome image in the pool,
To fall deeply in love with his own lovely, handsome pretty face
Was the action of a silly stupid, gormless gullible fool,
Tiresius had taught him the Truth, oh such an act of Grace!

[Note: This Grecian Ode is based on the ideas of Douglas Harding, Author of ‘Living Without A Head’].