Within this sanctum
of breath and bone—
ten trillion anchorites
mimic their devotions.
Bacteria threading
blood’s vermilion rivers
braiding holy water
into the cathedral
of now.
Their alchemy transmutes
starlight
into the wine of existence—
decanted
from Orion’s mythical vine.
Viruses—
those threshold wraiths
between being
and unbeing—
inscribe new verses
in the living gospel
of our chromosomes.
Fungi a cappella
in mycelial tongues
through marrow’s moaning chambers
decomposing resurrection
from each small death
we die.
We are not hosts—
but cantatas
still composing themselves
in light.
Each cell—
a verse rehearsing resurrection.
Hark:
your pulse conducts
this unseen choir
where mortal breath
becomes immortal song.
And in this sacrosanct
communion of kingdoms,
we learn
we were never “I”—
but a constellation of prayers:
timeless,
boundless—
Bacteria
Viruses
Fungi
Me—
becoming
one.
Categories:
unbeing, creation, identity, metaphor, philosophy,
Form: Free verse
Floating softly quietly
Still unseeking empty
Unbeing extending feeling
Being more not single
Reaching all yet nothing
Air flows though us
Earth roots us powers
Free from trying doing
One yet all
Yet nothing
Being
A voice comes saying
Guru teach us
Categories:
unbeing, poetry,
Form: Free verse
I have peeled off my eyes.
Fear of unbeing creeps in,
genes were escaping.
The thin affair bends
under the burden of vague uncertainty.
A smoke rolls out from choking throat.
A word leaps high from wounded pride.
The author does not know the sting,
blames the ears.
Hails will strike when you open the door.
The past will question the future,
the anguish of infinity.
SATISH VERMA
Categories:
unbeing, adventure, allegory, angst, animals,
Form: I do not know?