It began as tone—
no origin,
no end—
a chord mistaken for a world made whole.
A held vibration gathered into shape;
harmonics thickened into edges felt,
and silence filled with structures made of sound.
A pattern looping through a field of noise,
hoping repetition made it true.
Desire tuned the body into pitch,
insisted on a key, a fixed resolve,
refusing dissonance its right to pass.
But slowly, the will releases intervals;
resolutions drift without a home, and rhythm slips its measure into air.
Overtones collapse to quieter threads;
no struck glass shivering into light,
no instrument remains to house the sound.
No echo left to gather into form
only the unheard,
unstruck,
unheld
a silence
prior to all music,
where nothing ever
needed
to be shaped.
Is not creative impulse fed by need,
to give shape and meaning to a lost mist,
seeking solace for our heart that does bleed,
yearning to be by rhythm of bliss beats kissed?
Spontaneity is but a buzz word,
for is it not preceded by intent,
born of the unstruck sound by our soul heard,
to which childlike innocence grants consent?
We rest thought to transcend limitation,
yet in this realm it is the preferred tool,
to translate in symbols, each sensation,
refrains replaying on memory’s spool.
Renewal continual ebbs and flows ~
Thus in the pregnant pause, light of soul grows
Time
in the caldron
the hour
unstruck
Hands
reaching skyward
while boiling
amok
The wise men
among you
all wait
to proclaim
What criers
at midnight
hope to
— reclaim
(Dreamsleep: October, 2025)
AUM
is the voice of the unstruck bell.
AUM speaks to the no-self,
AUM answers.
I and my Father are ONE.
Who is this I?
I saw three pelicans in flight,
the sky was a pink pearl of silence,
The birds flew somewhere
beyond any place,
my eyes followed,
as it I had just this moment
created them.
OM rings out
in the heart of a buttercup,
how else could a humble flower
speak to you?
A meditation on that that is as is
The unstruck sound accompanied with a bliss fizz
Within the heart
Is where it starts
In stillness & silence we may listen
To the inner sound current that glistens
Vibrancy
In constancy
In case we are yet not cognisant
If inner sense polarity is dormant
We may sit in silence listening to nature sounds
Waterfall, leaves rustling, laughter of children in a playground
The essence of this practice being make attention one pointed
Within the vibration cognised is realisation automatically granted
All the doing we do is to choose to dissolve in the current
The Absolute being instantly available in this moment
23-August-2020
Closing ears we do cognise
A distinct soundless thunder
Inner sound current surprise
An innate unceasing wonder
A subtle background sound
Of crickets softly chirping
In the background resound
As of forest at night sleeping
Divine nectar as it outpours
Upon arriving at heart spacial
Unstruck sound as Ohm roars
An unending divine miracle
Magnetic pulse has its say
Manifesting rapturous bliss
In spasms of delight we sway
Transfixed in the divine caress
Recognition of all as vibration
The very source of existence
We choose pulse of resonation
As of measure of our innocence
05-August-2020
The silent gong
Accompanied by the scent
A divine love song
Bliss the accompaniment
30-July-2020
Now that you are on the Path of Kabir, what truths will you find?
Where spring, the lord of seasons reigneth, there the unstruck music sounds of itself,
There the streams of light flow in all directions, few are the men who can cross to that shore!
There, where millions of Krishnas stand with hands folded,
Where millions of Vishnus bow their heads, where millions of Brahmas are reading the Vedas,
Where millions of Shivas are lost in contemplation, where millions of Indras dwell in the sky,
Where the demi-gods and the munis are unnumbered, where millions of Saraswatis, goddess of music play the vina,
There is my Lord self-revealed, and the scent of sandal and flowers dwells in those deeps.
—?Kabir, II.57, Translated by Rabindranath Tagore
THE REAL YOU
Who do you think you are, tell me.
The way you throw your weight around
a handleless hammer I see,
unstruck nails are all on the ground.
Smart behemoth you walk on air.
Who do you think you are, tell me,
wearing musk of a billionaire,
life’s storm grinds your face in debris.
Though you show off poet’s pedigree
your poems grow in marsh like weeds.
Who do you think you are, tell me
poet laureate’s poems who reads.
A nice net of fake love you lay,
for me you go on shopping spree.
Deceiving you can’t get away,
who do you think you are, tell me.
August 25, 2018
Syllable count : 8 each line
(Checked on howmanysyllables.com)
An unstruck chord shivering within
An untraveled road dying for footsteps symphony
Dandelion craving for firm grip
Compliments, success and various honors I earned
Are like matchsticks leading me the next stage on
By lighting my path to settle down in corporate life.
But do I stand to all the above compliments & honor?
Or Do they say the truth earnestly or for some "return"
As they lay more responsibilities and duties yet
Do they set a situation to confine oneself in show-case?
Here’s the crux; ignored the truth after combustions.
Have learnt a lesson, if flame goes off, light a new.
There’re safety matches, friction and noiseless one
Needing suitable surface or specially prepared surface.
Well, an unstruck match won’t show up in pitch dark
Unless lighted up with external source with a surface.
==================================
3rd Place win
Contest: New Poem Compliments by Frank H.
Dr. Ram Mehta
9-25-13
I am inspired to write this poem by a contest on me " Dr. Ram's words are better
than gold" sponsored by Joe Maverick sometime in November, 2011
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