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Poem

Those who savour do know well the taste, 
The rest may form but the images abstract; 
Unsubstantial eyes penetrate deep into realities, 
But the carnal look with superficial glance. 
Spent I time pondering over the baffling puzzle, 
Whom He created the Master Scheme for? 

One morn, at last at the hour of dawn, 
The curtains were raised, the gallery swung, 
The door opened wide to show the reality. 

Ah! What incredible I did find to see, 
Since then my mind burns, my heart smoulders, 
To capture the fleeting vision again. 
The nourishing celestial taste of experience, 
My mind, my eyes my heart did undergo, 
The organs of wisdom can not explain. 
The words symbols suffice not to impart, 
The festive taste relished by the inner being. 

A huge mirror of brilliance hanging down, 
In vacancy, extended from the south to the west, 
I viewed glistening with stillness of dazzling glare, 
Brighter than hundreds of moons if gathered; 
Emerged then slowly in the shining surface, 
Half portrait of the Masterpiece, the Beautiful, 
With magnificence adequate to the starved yes, 
But thousands of times more prominent, 
Than the brightening ground of exhibition. 

Beheld I the Redeemer, the Pivot of creation, 
Wearing turban green with no end lurking on the sides, 
Trimmed beard, neither too long nor too short, 
Seemed as if the vanished hands laboured hard, 
To adorn the Matchless with the regal splendour. 

Cold flashes emitting out from the countenance, 
Dazzled the force of frail seeing eyes; 
The spectrum seemed a true manifestation, 
Of the Being who from far behind reflected, 
In the enormous screen stretched in front. 
The mystery was revealed, but I should keep silence, 
For when “Yes” and “No” both are the ruinous extremes, 
Silence is the moderate route to survive.

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