Sunday, 7 November 2010


THE SELF is very dear to all: from dearest love,
Unbroken Bhakti flows, like stream of golden oil.
Guru knows Self within, as his dear God above.
His child, after determined and persistent toil,

May see his Guru apart from Self, yet melts
Mind's strained logic, to find Faith in Him alone.
That blesed ever flowing fire of love, smelts
Soul's dross. His heart's desire, becomes his own.

The one who attaches mere form to Holy Name,
With Bhakti ripe, and knowing Truth complete,
In time transcends that image just the same.
The blossom on the bough flowers Self replete!

The fool who prays for selfish ends desired,
Fulfilment never finds; then he soon begins,
To love for sake of happiness, by God inspired.
This prayer, being granted, he conquers and wins.

In love with that One, the golden flow unceasing,
Soul grows a white lotus of purest devotion,
In calm stillness, its root in depth increasing,
Within heart's vessel to lead us o’er the ocean

Of strife, letting soul unfold, as Self of sky,
The One all wise, unlidded, and all seeing Eye!

Saturday, 6 November 2010


It would be good if one could write a perfect verse
Of Truth; a poem which expresses the reverse
Of falsity and delusion. Man is trapped in illusion,
Vast populations dwell in chronic confusion,
Because of a dire disease called egomania,
Stretching from Greenland right down to Australia.

Symptoms of egomania obscure Real Being,
The Knowledge of True Self without really feeling,
The pure bliss of consciousness awareness grace;
Realising 'That' as ones own original face,
Not the one we see in the silvered looking glass,
That idolatry is one through which we must pass.

The way to achieve this more blessed sacred state,
Is by Self Enquiry, before it is too late.
We enquire within through attention 'Who Am I?',
And persist resolutely before we die.
Then the perfect Poem is unveiled, to be you,
Ones own pure loving Self.'That' alone is really True!

Friday, 5 November 2010


Enrobed in scarlet, a brilliant blazing bird,
With eagle’s strength, the child of sacred fire,
She sounds a cry, that’s forever heard
When consumed in Self-lit flames, she does aspire
From the funeral pyre, to show the world
Herself, reborn from death! Mankind she shall inspire.

In ancient time this wonder did inspire
Heliopolis, where flew this fabled bird,
To reach the Sun, lamp light of our shadow world,
And immolating in his mystic fire,
Her Being rose from ashes to aspire
To know New Life, such tales we've heard.

When this Egyptian legend was first heard,
The daring thought was one that did inspire
Each soul, that now had right to so aspire,
And follow the lead set by this courageous bird.
If self dares to die upon the sacrificial fire,
Pure Self will emerge as victor of this world.

This paragon is an emblem for our world,
Proclaiming news, that everywhere is heard,
Setting the wooden minds of men on fire,
The deathless spirit mocks at death to inspire!
Thanks to the valour of this wondrous bird,
The Soul of man, can to an after-life aspire.

So people of all lands can after all aspire
To reach the peak of hope in a worried world,
And pursue the flight of virtue like this bird.
So sound the golden bugle and be heard!
Men should know such transformation can inspire
To be born again in sacred sacramental fire.

The petty self is scorched in conscious fire,
And from ashes, the Self does once again aspire,
To such new birth, and the hearts of men inspire,
And transform their dismal dreary world.
Joy again, can everywhere be heard,
All thanks to thee, oh most excelling bird!

By wondrous art she does inspire our world,
It’s vital we aspire to what’s been heard,
Arise from sacred fire, dear Phoenix bird!