Tuesday, 31 December 2013

MAHA YOGA A Garland of Sonnets

A Garland of Sonnets
By OM (Oleg Mogilever, St. Petersburg, RUSSIA), 1986

Translated from the Russian by OM, 2004 Edited by Alan Jacobs, 2004
Sadguru is clearing the Path only for His devotees, Granting great Grace within and from heaven, And how lucky is one, who embarks on vichara, Yearning only for Atman as his God the Self.
Th...e Master, activated by his own Heart, Did not let Himself to dream, but left home, When He heard the call of Arunachala: “Leave it to Me, forget about the mundane!”
It seemed He was bearing His flesh by tapas, But the dagger of truth, into the heart of death, Was thrust into this youth by Direct Cognition.
Now for aspirants we’re given the living clue And everybody must repeat His experiment – The purpose came to light by His experience.
The purpose came to light by His Experience. “Yes, the body perishes. But it’s not my Self!” The fear of death is a most illusive snake Disappearing in the radiance of True Knowledge.
If ego is then the life of the world, and is Real But if it is only a myth, only the lila of Being. Where is the Truth? “The Self will soon appear When all forms and names are discarded.
Joking apart, there’s no Path more serious. ‘ Know Thyself ‘ – here’s the Practice, not a slogan, This maha yoga will work only for valiant ones.
You must travel through a blazing fire, Through the test of the bottomless well. O, seeker, don’t forget to wear your courage! ”
“O, seeker, don’t forget to wear your courage! It will support you in the sea as a lifebelt, If there is no any sign of hope from without, When impossible return to all normal footholds.
Catching sight of ego-self, inquiring, Keep attention on Self, but closing eyelids Don’t let consciousness, oh ignoramus, sleep, Let your self-enquiry act like a riding whip!
Dispelling a stream of thought-forms Be vigilant, courageous and rigorous Doing away with all ego’s sculptures.
In order to keep the unshakeable course Tirelessly increase your spiritual resource – Keep a strong mumuksha beneath the garment! ”
“Keep a strong mumuksha beneath the garment, A craving for Liberation, that powerful Will Which shall transform your Dream into a deed, Into effort of your Search, into the Path of Jnana.
In order to get the better of the old monkey – The mind as ego-self, stand firmly at your post, Know your aspiration as your second suit, Do the work continuously, without any flaw.
Always only abiding always into ‘That’ You shall feel yourself, boundless OM, As Bliss, Knowledge, and Existence.
So, my dear, be always on the watch, Inquire into a question, who’s regarded as you? Every moment don’t lose sight of the Task! ”

“Every moment don’t lose sight of the Task! Open wide the gift of inner sight! Only by a mood of earnest devotion Can one disperse the mirage of the universe.
It will lead away an adept with himself In order to stop the stream of his attention On the abode of eternal Fire-of-Existence, Desiring to destroy every available face.
The thought-ores dissolve without delay, Pursuing the source of these falsities, Not giving way to speech, to food, to dream!
Amidst nightmare of mental illusions In order to tear the mythical bonds It is necessary everywhere to see the Essence! ”
“It is necessary everywhere to see the Essence! That Lotus of the glory, embodied at the Heart, That hidden, secret Reality-Doorway, A scarlet flame on the bridge with a bonfire.
That way drive thy herds, the Sadhak, The indefatigable Cerberus of thoughts, And they will vanish in the crater of the Heart. You will be aware of the shore as only Silence. O, my dear! Be always watchful! Don’t miss out on your inborn Gift: You are the Unity of Being and Knowledge!
But to really experience this level You must first give up deceptive bonds, – Only by uninterrupted acts of Worship.”
“Only by uninterrupted acts of Worship And whole-hearted commited devotion You’ll burn bridges to sensual objects And be consolidated on the Path of Knowledge.
Give up by vichara your passions and whims When an obtrusive thought arises. The crutch of words has no need for you. Keep silence by subduing the heat of deeds.
O, dear, feel acutely the Heart’s air, Live in ‘Who am I?’ forgetting world and its breather, The Path of Self-enquiry is your true Path.
Know, only by the ascent of an earnest Search Amidst mirages of samsara’s reservoirs It is possible to win back your Primogeniture.”
“It is possible to win back your Primogeniture! When a kiwi bird in ancient times exhausted a vast sea With its beak, drop by drop, Siva’s Grace came! There is no grief! Like this labour dissolves hosts of vasanas
If without thinking about heaps of obstructions You are invariably on vigilant Patrol, Being on the watch of ego – the root of thoughts, Questioning ‘Who am I?’ there and here.
There are no more any sins, diseases and troubles! After casting them away as delirium of reasoning O, my dear, get down into thy bottomless well,
The Heart’s Path will lead thee forward, To that Reality which only lives alone. . . . . . . . . . . So aspire, being fully embodied in your Search!”
“So aspire, being fully committed in the Search! Let since earliest times, play of the fuss Not bother you, the dedicated adept, No more the greedy stings of a mosquito.
Without any expectations go on the Path! To Oneself! It is time, after leaving fruitless rooms of books, To practice the Return-to-thy-foundations Experiencing the world as a myth, a mirage.
A family, a work, the body are only shadows Of your true Nature, shining everywhere, Not ever having either birth or death.
As soon as ego arose and rushed boldly to the battle ‘Who am I?’ untill duality is still with you You are the Self-enquiry! The thread of Life there is only in ‘THAT’! “
“You are the Self-enquiry! The thread of Life there is only in THAT! The other is delusion, fraud and Illusion. The spiritual sabre of ‘Who am I?’ Will kill thought by this question of all questions.
But that daughter of distinctions, as before, without permission Still strives to disturb your Camp, your Eternal nature. Very sharp is the way of Knowledge, which removes all outgrowths.
O, my dear, throw off upadhis of the body, Give up all, to the very last one. To the death, end drive of the ego, the imposter in Self. . . . . . . . . . . . Constantly staying at vichara Cognize the unity with no end: Your goal is a Heart of Being.”

“Your goal is a Heart of Being. THAT. Which is inaccessible to vacillating thought And to a word – son of that shadow of Life, IT is within all parts, beyond life of ego-‘I’. A Single, Imperishable, Fatherland of all and everything. The authentic bliss lies beyond mirages of a day. There are not any further Truths behind IT. THAT is the Truth Itself.
Is thy warrior’s armor firm? Has thy sword of sacrifice hardened? You must without doubt, stop your profane life.
It will be burnt down on that sacred Bonfire Where your real Home is manifesting – In the infinitely innermost Flame that’s there.”
. “In the infinitely innermost Flame that’s there Is living your Atman, Guru, ‘I am’ living Which is not subject to good and evil – Your Master is invariably calling.
Have you heard my Voice through walls of illusion? Burn it to ashes by your Self-enquiry! Know only Love to Me, Practice it without any fear or treason.
Not losing your attention, oh my dear, Go through nights of Ignorance to the imperishable dawn Without breaking out of touch with Me.
We will meet in the source of Fire. And not before and not later. Only then ego – nail of the universe – loses its power.”
The ego – nail of the universe – loses its power Into the arms of Guru – the Self of all, The Great Bhagavan Sri Ramana. His sacred teachings are listened to now.
Sravana. By finding the Direction, Love and Devotion for quest of THAT, It’s possible to realize the purpose of Life – BE and enjoy felicity in awareness: “All is One”.
“ The Lord, I am Thine! Now – forward! To the Meeting! THOU art my Self… Not empty words but only this Path Will bring forward the era of Happiness – Being.
Let the Self-enquiry dry up a sea of vasanas, May tamas, rajas and their grief vanish And the Truth is shining as ‘I – I’! ”
And the Truth is shining as ‘I – I’ Into Itself, by Itself, in its Nature, By Consciousness which brings the adept to Bliss. Bliss, carried through the fiery coach.
“O, Guru! Save me by Thy Grace! As a doll of salt is put into the ocean When she comes make it sound, Let ego dissolve in the Heart, in Self!
O, so thin is the bridge – as the edge of a razor – To THAT, who ALONE knows the result of battle. Oh Lord, give me powers for not turning aside from the way!
I am going to Thee, checking the course with Thee, It is the boundless Aspiration to the Truth.” . . . . . . . . . . Sadguru is clearing the Path only for His devotees.
XV (The main Sonnet)
Sadguru is clearing the Path only for His devotees, The purpose came to light by His Experience: “O, seeker, don’t forget to wear your courage, Keep a strong mumuksha beneath the garment.
Every moment don’t lose sight of the Task, It is necessary everywhere to see the Essence, Only by uninterrupted acts of Worship It is possible to win back your Primogeniture.
So aspire, being fully commited in the Search! You are the Self-enquiry! The thread of Life is only in THAT! Your goal is a Heart of Being.
In the infinitely innermost Flame that’s there The ego – nail of the universe – loses its power And the Truth is shining as ‘I – I’! ”
Om Sri Ramanarpanamastu

Sunday, 15 December 2013



The King's daughter glows, all radiant within,
Her shining raiment's woven from purest gold,
She surrenders to her precious God of old.
She lives without a hint of guile guilt or sin,
She's triumphant, certain always to win
The struggle to save her sleeping flock and fold.
She's well beyond all reproach and we're told
Her word's still heard, within world's dreadful din....

An aspiring devotee yearned to wed,
This fair daughter of the heavenly King,
Then by Truth he would forever be led,
The sacred marriage of which most mystics sing.
She consented if first He Realised Self,
And freed himself from his vain egotistic elf!


grieve not.

death my friend
cuts the strings of change
and leaves the departed
growing old no more,
glorious and unchanging,
reposing forever
in our living memory.
remember, priceless one:
nothing real can be harmed;
and no illusion can survive!

BOOM! jai ramana-ji!

yosy flug             

Wednesday, 4 December 2013



On chequered squares of space and time,
Dark shadows dance their game of mime;
To slay the Self is their cryptic aim;
By sleights of mind, to heights they climb.

There sits their Chief, Black’s his name,
A proud ego is his claim to fame,
A cosmic game he’s forced to play,
Helped by his dark deluding dame.

False bishops at his feet do pray,
Marauding knights have feet of clay,
A pride of puppet pawns at rest,
His army’s poised in gaunt array.

The Lord of Light is truly blest,
The White Goddess for his Queen, no less:
With castled Sages on each side,
He waits to joust this celestial jest.

His soldiers, stately stallions ride,
Maintaining righteous order wide.
In silence, pawns withdraw and meditate,
Freed from the dream of seek and hide.

That Self wants Ego checked to mate,
The rascal fights to thwart his fate,
And kill his foe himself instead:
We’ll watch a battle taught and great.

By laws of Nature the rules are led,
The end’s perceived, pure consciousness ahead.
To wage this war in awesome glory
‘Till Black resigns; thank God, he’s dead.

After ages, growing grey and hoary,
Both lie boxed, the game was gory.
When ‘WHO’ created this sport is ready,
A new game begins again; another story!

  Alan Jacobs

Wednesday, 27 November 2013



All beings yearn to be happy, always;
Happiness without a tinge of sorrow,
To enjoy a life of carefree days,
Taking no burden of thought for tomorrow.
When restless mind’s at peace in deep sleep,
What glimpse of worry, grief or despair?
So happiness lies within, buried down deep.
How to find this treasure, awake, aware?
Ask the question, who am I, and from where?
That’s the essential means of the holy task,
Ending ego’s ‘me’ and ‘my’, that’s there.
No pleasure endures in things of this Earth,
Enquire within, who basks behind our mask?
To regain that Selfhood we lost at birth.



To regain that Selfhood we lost at birth,
First consider well the cinema screen,
To understand that, gains merit and worth.
On the screen there appears a tense drama,
The film begins and we enjoy the show.
Fire, flood, sex, death, a vast panorama;
The screen’s unchanging, but the film’s a shadow.
The simile teaches, strange as it may be,
That both seer and seen make up the mind.
On Consciousness as screen, all action’s based.
To know that is true, is the clue to be free,
A guiding beacon that’s so rare to find,
Now and forever for eternity,
That’s the Sage wisdom by which we are graced.



That’s the Sage wisdom by which we are graced,
We’re taught the silver screen as a metaphor.
Seated in theatre stalls, now we are placed,
To proceed with clarity and enquire some more.
The bright theatre lamp is the light supreme,
Illuminating both actors and the scene.
We see stage and the play only by light,
Yet when action ends, the lamp remains bright.
Just as woven cloth and its colour white
Are never, ever perceived as apart,
So when mind and light both unite,
They form ego, knotted and bound in the heart.
Of all that we’ve ever learned since birth,
That’s the high wisdom proclaimed on Earth.



That’s the high wisdom proclaimed on Earth,
How to make mind to merge in its source?
Only by enquiring with all of one’s force,
The central question regarding its birth,
The ultimate scrutiny of “Who Am I”?
As thoughts froth forth like waves on the ocean,
They’ll all be slain by such introspection,
Unveiling the Self, the lost inward eye.
Pearls lay buried on the deep ocean floor,
Attracting divers to search for this goal.
Holding their breath they plunge to the core
Of the ocean bed, for the pearl oyster’s soul.
To gain this gem in the heart’s sacred place,
Just seek for the source where mind is based.



Just seek for the source where mind is based.
You travel alone on a mystery train;
By this metaphor we’re comfortably placed,
To travel by providence free from pain.
So put all your heavy luggage on the rack,
Only a fool carries it on his head!
Be glad, accept the predestined track,
Rest quietly, safe at home on your bed!
Surrender in joyful jubilation!
Surrender utterly to God’s almighty will,
Surrender with total resignation,
Surrender knowing all will be well,
Surrender whole heartedly with one accord,
Take safe refuge in the all loving Lord!



Take safe refuge in the all loving Lord!
For life’s a dream and sleeping dreams are short,
The waking dream is long; both stem from thought.
The Real is beyond both this waking and sleep.
The sword of enquiry slays dream states deep,
So reaching their substratum, numinous,
The state of pure consciousness, Self luminous!
Blissfully aware, yet awake in sleep.
As the cockerel crows ready to sup,
At the roseate dawn of first morning light,
Awareness pours into the near empty cup,
Granting a moment’s taste of Self insight.
This light is the eye that forever sees,
Who can be known by enquiring “who frees?”



Who can be known by enquiring “who frees?”
The Master who lives in the cave of the heart,
Not separate from one’s Self, being the start,
Of the final search from bond to release.
The Sage appears when the soul is ready,
With strong gaze of grace he says “be aware
That God and his wisdom are already there!”
He acts as a brake to make the mind steady,
While mercy flows freely in sunshine and air,
Hindered only by our being unready.
If you come to him, meekly with an empty cup,
His grace is then bound to fill it up.
The Master’s glance is the grace of the Lord,
He cuts you free with his mighty sword.



He cuts you free with his mighty sword,
To guide you surely, on the upward way
To Self Realisation, your real birthday!
Consummation of “That” the Sage’s word,
Is “rest in the Self,” which is always heard.
In him, place great trust and affirm, say yea
As certainty! Our Real Self blazes away,
Ever surrendered to the almighty Lord,
Revealing great peace for Realisation’s sake,
Renouncing belief that a rope is a snake.
The seeker surely becomes “the great find”,
His own blissful being, the summit in kind,
This great Teaching eternally frees,
One with the Self, as the Absolute sees.



One with the Self, as the Absolute sees,
He answers all our prayers and our pleas;
We must first enter that dear sacred part,
Not the fleshy pump that throbs on the left,
But the sacred core: by being skilful and deft,
We find that on the right; is the real Heart!
By harnessing breath, being adept and bright,
We dive with great skill and all of our might,.
There dwelling in depths of our true Heart’s cave,
Lives the shining ”Unity” blazing as Self,
Pulsation of I-I, where all shadows cease.
So fixing gaze there, finally, off we stave,
Perverted, wandering, demonic mind elf,
Returning to “Self”, our birthright of peace.



Returning to Self, our birthright of peace,
Is knowing that all this vile body performs
Was predestined before it ever took form.
So from stress, despair and fretting, pray cease!
Our freedom dwells in our natural State,
Renouncing “I Am The Doer” notion,
Detached from fruit of form’s puppet motion,
Yet grace can avert even predestined fate!
Be like a skilled actor on this stage of strife!
Play with goodwill the part you’ve been given,
No matter how strangely you find you are driven,
Knowing who, truly you are, in this life.
Until fate pulls down the final curtain,
Know you’re Self not body, know that is certain!



Know you’re Self not body, know that is certain!
In this Realisation, there’s no cause to leave home,
You can strive in the city, there’s no need to roam.
To change style of life would all be in vain,
For mind remains with you, until it is slain.
Demonic ghost ego, source and fabric of thought,
Create body and world, whereby we are caught.
Change of place, never changed the way we behave,
Whether living at home, in a forest or cave.
There are two ways by which our bonds may be freed:
Either ask “to whom is this strange fate decreed?”
Or surrender false ‘me’ to be then stricken down,
So praying intensely for ‘my will’ to cease,
We leave it to grace, to grant us release.



We leave it to grace, to grant us release.
God will do this through the gaze of his Sage,
He sends down His messenger for every age,
To those who yearn and pray for great peace.
The Realised Sage lives on here and now,
Without confusing the Self with the mind.
Humble, compassionate, loving and kind,
Wisely profound, as his way clearly shows.
He steers the vessel of firm devotees,
Fulfilling everyone’s spiritual need.
In deep silence, he sits, with perfect ease,
To awaken those, whom his teaching well heed.
Graciously, his great glance of initiation,
Drives the mind inwards, to Self Realisation!



Driving the mind inwards, to Self Realisation,
He grants safe passage through life’s stormy ocean;
What frail soul will ever be excluded
From the presence of the holy Supreme?
No matter how depraved or deluded,
His mercy never ends, and will always redeem,
Raising the soul from the depth of depression,
To free one from the ‘I am this body’ obsession.
From passions that churn desire and aversion,
His fair breeze wafts clear equanimity;
Enmeshed no more in worldly adversity,
Never perturbed by praise nor foul enmity,
We learn that there’s the greatest giving
In knowing all are Self, and so truly living.



In knowing all are Self, and so truly living,
We thank the great Sage who is ever giving.
We praise the Lord, who leads us to his feet,
His gracious gaze is eternally sweet,
Without ceasing, he’s forever reviving,
He grants that freedom, our real surviving.
He severs the grip of bondage’s chains,
He frees the soul, where confusion reigns,
He bestows both compassion and deep peace,
He sends out his grace to grant us release.
He teaches the truth that Consciousness is all,
And Self Enquiry to raise us up from our fall.
We praise God Almighty whom is ever living,
This crown of my verses is our thanksgiving!



To regain that Selfhood we lost from birth,
That’s the Sage wisdom by which we are graced,
This is the high wisdom proclaimed on Earth.
Just seek for the source where mind is based.
Take refuge in the all loving Lord,
Who can be known by enquiring ‘who frees?’
He cuts you loose with his mighty sword,
One with the Self, as the Absolute sees.
Returning to Self, our birthright of peace,
Know you’re Self, not body, know that is certain!
We leave it to grace, to grant us release.
He drives the mind inwards, to Self Realisation,
In knowing all are Self, and so truly living,
This Sonnet Corona is my thanksgiving!

Saturday, 23 November 2013












Opens with Greek Classical Music CD supplied.


The Gods of Sleep and Death, met one silvery winters day,
Sleepy, dozy Morpheus and grim Thanatos were twins
They’d met to enjoy some cut and thrust, in verbal play,
Every word was couched in broad smiles and hearty grins,

( Shots of two young men laughing and joking)

Then their dreaded, Mother, Queen of Night appeared upon the scene,
And what she had to say was definitely not serene!


Sons, stop your idiotic foolish chatter will you please!
Your stupid ideas of humour are like some disease,
What I have to tell you is most critical and grave,
 Please think, how my worldly kingdom we can save,
Those earthling mortals are plotting a revolution,
To cast off my yoke of government as a solution
For their many deserved sufferings and multiple ills,
I want you to find a way to keep them meek and mild,
At the moment they’re threatening to get quite rough and wild!


I could have them slaughtered quick as a lightening flash,
As dreaded God of Death this is my universal role,
We’ll give them all a noxious plague, they’ll fall in a mighty crash,
Then Mother you can start a new race again, obedient and whole.


No, no, my most morbid murderous blood thirsty son,
This is not what in any way that I desire to be done!
Morpheus, perhaps you are a better, much wiser man,
Can’t you think up some more intelligent plan?


I’ll weave a magic spell of dreams for them instead,
In which these muddled mortals will be meekly led
To weakly graze in shadows grey, like sheep at play.

Compare these two states, attend well to what I say!
Brief is the sleeping dream that you enjoy in bed,
But a waking dream is stable, and stays until you’re dead.

Listen! Learn some real truth, that’s my well tried way;
All feels real to the sleeping dreamer’s satisfaction,
But the stuff of dreams is merely a mental reaction!
I’ll hypnotise them so that they dream their life away,
They’ll be peaceful and never revolt by night or day!


“Thank you son, my dear, for having such a great idea,
If they’re sent to sleep  by Thee, where’s my need to fear?”
Tell me how you’ll achieve this miraculous feat,
To listen to your plan will be a most delightful treat!


What you’re about to hear is quite a novel scheme,
So draw close and lend your most attentive ear!
He’s going to put them into a state of dream,
Then their wicked Mother will feel free of fear.


In my great magical cinema show,
As wizard director I’ll deftly dim the light,
Plot a soap opera to project for them tonight.
Like puppets they’ll act on the silver screen below.
They’ll think they’re the sole doer’s of their acts,
Ignorant of all real cosmic truths and facts!


But one wise Sage whose own true Self does know,
As earth’s patrons settle down for this epic sight
To thrill their feelings with shock, horror and delight,
Warns them way down on  planet earth below,
The dangers of this hypnotic magic picture show.

Scene :Earth

Opens with trumpet music


Lantern, screen and slides, that  flow
Are emanations from the senses and the mind.
The show you’re watching is a shadow play,
In each human’s will, a spool unwinds his day.

As knowers of the Real, you’re like the blind.
So stop reacting! There’s a much wiser way;
In your blissful, Conscious Self, be still and stay!

All objects are soap bubbles in the mind,
Each being’s driven by One Almighty God!;
He causes clouds to weep and mountains nod.

Consciousness strives through senses five to find
The magic of a dream fit to trick the blind.

For each instrumental part unwinds
Through assonant chords and dissonant notes.

The whole concerto grosso together floats,
Performing ethereal music of the spheres,
For the lone enjoyment of  His celestial ears.

Yet we’re more than piano rolls of sound,
We flow from continuo, a monochord profound,
Played by a virtuoso, improvising with cosmic force,
From the vast silence of His infinite resource.

This life of ours is a bewildering dance
Whirled by a wild Dervish God divine,
Drunk on vintage Dionysian wine,
Wildly turning, nothing left to chance.
Upon the mellow pipes of circumstance.

He choreographs a play of space and time,
Every glance upon Earth’s stage is His rhyme.

Universes glide through His mystic stance.
With rolling drums of thunder, mark His stamp;
In symphony of spheres, hear His tune.
Effulgent Sun shines as a beacon lamp,
His finger ever points towards the silver Moon.

He’s the Alone, whereby all things are done;
Divine dancer, dancing, and the dance are one.



My son’s, did you hear what Tiresias said, we can’t have that
He’s warning them, now your clever plan will fall down flat!


Don’t worry only a few will understand and wake up from sleep
The rest will go on dreaming  under Morpheus’s clever spell,
Don’t worry Mother all will be well, very, very well!
They’ll carry on living in the same old way, harmless as grazing sheep.

Tuesday, 19 November 2013



I’m full as a mountain lake after summer rain
That’s fed the sacred stream and source of holy wisdom,
A flame sent by God to ignite his planet from above.
The golden glow of heat on burnished plain,
Gilds leaves on this path down pilgrim’s lane,
Warming earth, her gritty ochre clay,
Water, sea of mercy, so green and grey.
Air, the sweet breath of life that’s free from pain,
Crystalline beyond any loss or gain.
I am without a central ‘I-notion’ resident at home,
There’s no me to be elated or badly hurt by fear,
Pleased, perplexed, precious, pouting, proud, or simply here
To feel depressed, anxious but a soul free to roam
On inward seascape of bubbles, froth and foam.
Abidance in the heart, Real Self, there's no need for lofty tracts.

Seated in the temple shrine of the spiritual heart,
Nestling on the dexter side of my heaving breast,
Not on the left where the fleshy pump pulses in the chest,
Dwells ‘I Am’ which wakens Self to start.
Oh, what is oneness, truth and wisdom’s art,
Into which God shot love’s rose-flowered dart?
Who's bound or free as honoured friend and conscious guest,
Behind the nervous body-mind and now at last unfurled,
Space for a universe to happen in, lustrous and impearled?

Deep in my spiritual heart, I am the one, unborn,
Uncaused, deathless, I am, uniquely perfect, new, absolutely free!
I ask what is this tempestuous, stormy, troubled sea?
Where mind froth foams spuming from dusk to dawn,
On the ocean of Self lit by a fiery morn.
What is creation, world dissolution?
I ponder, and search for some solution.
Who and what is seeking?
King, bishop, queen or pawn,
Sporting on this chequered emerald palace lawn?
What is the goal of seeking?
Is it peace, freedom, liberty?
Who is the bold seeker who craves this final absolution?
Has he found an answer,
An ultimate resolution?

Yes, I am pristine, pure as the driven Himalayan snow,
Or pellucid stream pouring from pinnacle’s height,
Chaste, flawless, stainless, without blame, blemish, and wintry white.
I trickle down the mountain valley’s flow,
Free! I’m curious, what is there to know?
By what dubious method is knowledge gained,
To what spurious end when it’s attained?
I have no problems here, now or there below,
I’ve surmounted grief, all sorrow born of woe,
Simply stated, I know what's meant by wrong and right.
Our universe by creation, preservation, is maintained
By grace of god and his mighty will, all creatures are sustained.
Here, awakened now, I'm steady and perfectly still.
As an adamantine rock in the restless ocean stands,
Unmoved by cyclonic gale, tidal wave or shifting sands,
What of oppositions, healthy or ill,
Pleasure, pain, to heal quickly or to kill,
Distraction, perturbation, meditation,
Reflection, negation, confirmation?

I welcome all as God’s almighty will
He accepts ‘what is’, as gracious grist to time's grinding mill.
Gently by grace of god, in mercy he breaks all bondage bonds,
In a great paean of praise and total affirmation,
He rests with consciousness, his Self, the great consummation.

I have lost the monotonous merry-go-round of thought,
The perpetual treadmill of self-opinion and words,
Mainly cynicism and lies, the parroting chirp of birds,
A poisonous brew so bitterly fraught
With the mistaken idea that I ought
To cherish the mind as chief,
And then be mugged by thought, the villainous thief!

So that is the lesson my dear Master brought,
Ignore the scorpion stings of concepts wrought
With such inner discussion and debate.
Here's consciousness, consciousness is here.
A precious gift beyond all belief,
The ending of thought.
Now there's peace, ultimate joy and relief.

I am clarity, bright as a diamond, crystal, lily-white.
So what is illusion? To this question I meekly yield,
Finite mind can’t understand the infinite field,
The magic of Maya is but a slick trick of light.

So my Master gently wipes away all sad grief and tears,
All is well, unfolding as it should to allay such foolish fears.
With not the slightest hint of duality,
One without two,
Unity, wholeness, existence, holistic, all seamless,
Without separation, pure consciousness, love, awareness,
No division between me and you,
Emanating from the primal source, who
Am I, but that? I am eternal, the same
Being as truth and God without a name.

At last i know the little ‘me’ who can never do,
All that happens is the will of God right through and through.
I rest in the spiritual heart, blissful, benign and blameless,
So what is my greater Self to the mighty god of flame?
So my master to his students does plead,
Be still, motiveless when you perform a deed.
Forget all those books, aims, efforts, teaching and kneeling,
After all the hard years you’ve zealously worked and toiled,
Open wide, relax, and never by the worldly snake be coiled.
I’ve no limits or borders, I’m no longer bound,
No hedges, fences, verges, remain for spacious me,
Nothing arises, I am empty capacity for all to see
That all is well, my true Self I've found.

I traced my ‘I thought’ like a hunting hound
And knew my primal source the light of day,
And now as consciousness I’m free to play.
I rest in the heart on a sacred mound,
Where my naked feet walk on holy ground.
I am freedom, enlightenment, joy, bliss and liberty!

Nothing ever was, I am God, what more is left to say?
I am that, absolute, unique, ever primeval one,
As consciousness, love, awareness, effortless bliss,
Embraced by the love of God,
Blest by his all gracious kiss.
In light of glory, radiant as the sun,
I am homogeneous, second to none.

What care I now for freedom or liberation?
In life or death or gaining Self Realisation?
Or for my destiny predisposed to run,
Reborn in another womb 'till kingdom come?
And after transmigration, at-one-ment I may miss.
My master halts this baffling mental perturbation,
I let go, abiding in my heart of silent adoration.

Alan Jacobs