STRAY VERSES

ASTOUNDING GRACE

The emancipating mystery of Grace,
Adorns our sacred Gurus’ shining face.
His piercing eyes blaze forth in mighty gaze,
To free devotees from their mundane maze.
Let’s praise our Guru with all our Hearts,
Thanking him for that Grace his love imparts!

THE MASTER SAYS

“Let them kiss your tender lotus feet,
Or with venom, your violent body beat;
In the end it’s more or less the same,
You need be unaffected by praise or blame!”
If soul can achieve this arduous feat,
You’ve almost reached your goal, complete!

FELINE FOLLY

Hark, the true folly is that of the cat,
Crouching low by a creamy milky pan:
Poised to drink from this sweet delicious vat,
But he leaps at a fly on the wall! Can
This be likened to mans’ monkey mind?
Instead of imbibing nectarine Grace,
We jump at worldly pleasure, only to fall
Flat in the mire, on a down trodden face!

THE WATER BEAKER

The water jug is a symbol that’s pure,
Simplicity and firmness to be sure.
Nectar flows from this crystal, like His Grace;
He pours it on that ego it shall efface.
This cleansing, loving stream of immortality,
Grants all the virtues of immutability.

CRESCENT JEWEL OF SHIVA

We gaze at Your splendid full moon so bright,
It beams a cool and gracious light,
A reflection from Your most powerful Sun;
It is Your Crescent Jewel, oh splendid One!

Earth’s Your shining emerald pendant there,
You sport her on Your matted locks of hair,
We note your vastness through and through,
You are another name for Self, that’s True,

As is God, and Heart, for All is One complete.
When mind surrenders at Your lotus feet
It becomes like the Moon at noon for You,
Still and harmless, silent in your sky of blue.

AN EARNEST PLEA

Bhagavan! Your blessed feet so gently tread
On the ruby lotus petals of your lovers' minds;
Yet you pierced the iron door of the dread
Lord of Death, who'll one day strike each head
In this bad dream of the weary deaf and blind.
My brain ponders on your ways, but it's hard to find
The answer, to which my tired soul needs to be led.
Reveal Thy sacred feet within my sight, unwind

This twisted knot, before alas I too must fly;
And be born again in darkest ignorance,
To cry once more in this vale of tears and sigh.
I wail, before I die, grant me a blessed chance
To seize hold of your bejeweled holy feet.

FLORA

Life weaves fine flowers to bless our tomb,
On that mournful day when we’ll meet our doom;
Yet we buy many vibrant and fragrant blooms
To decorate and glorify our living rooms.
They grace Church altars and paint the scene
Of shape and colour our gardens lush and green.
On summer days when bright and sunny
They feed the bees who make us honey.

The mystery behind God’s gift of flowers
Is food for meditation in the mid-night hours.