“Emancipation (Kaivalya) is obtained when one realises the oneness of this Self with the universal Self, the Supreme Reality.”
~ extract from ‘The Holy Science’
from jiva, Atma to Paramatma
our ego, the Self and God absolute
this is the pathless path we need to cross
attained in stillness, if heart’s resolute
thought cessation exhumes fear and desire
starved of attention, our ego then dies
we then behold our Self as living light
where seeking ends, each heartbeat a sunrise
yet beyond Self is Brahman absolute
luminous darkness containing the all
God is the substratum of existence
the consciousness within which we stand tall
body-mind alone is caged in space-time
whilst transcendent Self mirrors God’s heartbeat
we all dwell in God and He dwells in us
recognising the truth, we feel complete
Earnest a teary congregation, heavenly father, heed us in our prayer in humbling a fearful soul
Response in supplication, soul builder say, in a pristine may ,within cosmic and mundane role
The longest miriam word is rousing astounding intimidation , often a nihilism and so, fanciful
Raised hands in supplication , in praising a bounty,a meager churn, a lost console, my sensible
For a sheer soulmate, troubadour a voyage, trip ahoy, yearns along the cosmic, a divine depart
A disillusionment enhanced the sundance headstrong, a choregatherer , along a fossil, a desert
The day is done, the painstaking unborn, the twilight hue approaching you to my arty, revered
Trickling a melt downpouring a tilt , a healing zeal in fear and in solitude, outcry,lo and behold!
All encompassing a dearborn, majestic an unseen depth of a hymn song delight , ruled recalled
A reverie down the memory lane, a croon before the mundane along, do rush more to myriad.
Written: June 10, 2025, for contest by Brian Strand
************
h
o
w
l ing out
v_i_e_w f
r
o
m w - i - n
my | | |
d - o - w
m
o w
o of the o l
n f
Late Springtime Hiku 18
late springtime glaciers
drifting in Southern O ~c ~e ~a ~n
~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~
e n g
driven by p u
.s n i
My Eternal God and my all
Sacred Heart of Father (Fr.) Christ
(Please) have mercy on us
Mother of Mercy (Please) pray for us
Mother Mary
Father Christ
St. Joseph
Poetry Form: Free Verse
Date Typed: May 19, 2025
Time Typed: 9:54pm
how long and sourly sobs the lonely heart
depends on how grave the weight which grieves the tears
pouring from the despondent spirit’s pores.—
a witness, too, will know the surly sort
of rain that beats down harshly on the court
called Sorrow Drive.—sure seems like nothing cheers
up the—nor nothing soothes the—nasty fears
nesting in somber nooks.—no, only art
comes close to curing spiritual sores.—
but even it leaves quite untouched the cause.—
able only to act as numbing gauze,
art is the first of many guarded doors,—
engraved on its threshold,—and colorfast—:
“seek you now to enter your wounded past?”
Heavy night settles-
ochre sparks evanesce
mute as sinking ash.
I’ve seen it, late those myriad afternoons—
A twilight blush, first waiting patiently
to welcome back your scintillating beauty,
next succumbing to your mild midnight swoons;
Your sapphire eyes then gleamed as glowing moons—
Though here facing me, near enough to see,
distantly they shone, reflecting the glee ?of more divinely animated tunes;
Yet, stretching out, I could not seem to reach
your spirit, could not stir your astral soul.
With the stars, glittering light-years away,
you were much too remote for wordly touch.
O me, what fool such a faraway goal
would chase? Was it not wiser home to stay?
The quivering quitters, quaking and quacking
In quite a quizzing quagmire, quietly
Quash their qualms. The ***** quest they have acquired,
Is a quandry of quantum quantity.
dawn breaks
a burst of sunshine ~
birdsong alarm
chill to take my breath away
the tailpipe streamers
this day trip must take place
a cozy talk
heater on sun-strength
Dad bundled up
dust, sweep, mop
clean and sanitize
drop and talk
olives stabbed
martini sipped
Dad dips
his glass
to Mom’s ashes
preheat air fryer
flipping burgers
preheat oven
turning frozen fries
drop and talk
my Dad’s alive
this day trip must end
with tailpipe streamers
wall to wall traffic
and a warm smile
and a hand
as my husband
helps me unload
drop and talk
after I text
my Dad
and he
texts back a red heart
and tells me
he loves me
Number 16
=======
My hubby's coughing
We're unwell
This flu is mean!
We feel like hell!
Number 17
=======
Can I get these done tonight?
This challenge causing me
Some plight!
Number 18
========
I am nearly out of time
I cough and sneeze
And all to rhyme
A fool has no delight in understanding,
but that his heart may discover itself.
I delight in both of those things.
Am I a fool for wanting that?
Or am I wise?
Or maybe, just maybe,
I'm myself, and I have no excuse
to abandon my own heart.
because if my heart can't find itself,
then who will?
"How can this be?" the old man said,
As shadows fell on the temple’s light,
His voice was low, his heart was lead—
Would faith grow pale in the nearing night?
But Gabriel, bright with timeless grace,
Stood firm beneath the altar’s flame,
"The Lord has heard you, face to face,
His promise lives, though you feel shame."
Oh, doubt not power that moves unseen,
In darkness still, the seed is sown,
For even now, though skies may lean,
Your heart’s small prayer becomes his own.
Good
ain’t good enough
When bad
— is better
(The Uptown Theater 1967: Philadelphia Pennsylvania)
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