Spiritual Anatomy

The soul was caught in the eyes of poetry
When the world was sleeping, and
Like a flaneur, she was roaming.
Rods and cones activated—she underwent processing
Excited optical nerves conveyed to the brain
The spiritual anatomy.

‘Ah! Really!’ shouted the gawking brain
Messengers blinked their eyes, like a whiskered cat
Like a journalist looking out for a story spicy,
Spared no moment the brain, commanding versification
Of nerves’ reporting.

“She’s a deluding blue light—the twirling hollow flame
Metamorphosed into spiraling vortex where passions overlap
Like creepy insects, eating into her core like bed bugs eroding
A sleek wooden lamp.

Contorted like a crumbled paper by sorrow, rage, lust, desire,
Wriggles she to break free from bodily frame
And instantly assumes an awesome form —
The heaven confined in a microcosm: glittering candles
With divers flames flash sundry symbols:

The corona of eternal peace around the white flame;
The blue flame— an animated portrait of the occult lore;
Unfathomable to humanity wearing material lens;
Supreme bliss simmers on the pink flame;
Infinite power shines on the red flame, as if it
Could trigger convulsion across cosmos.

Her enigmatic relationship with the Almighty unfolds—
As His breakaway consort, growing restless to get
Back to Him out of love born of separation long;
As His cohort, gone astray like a guy spoilt;
As His child, romping on the worldly playground,
Bruising himself in the game of chicanery and fraud;
As the very Lord himself in guise, cavorting on earth
Out of weird whims, reveling in mundane pains,
Enjoying telluric delights.

Her quintessence is not captured, however—
Isn’t she the Supreme Essence—
Without essence?

From IJAA, Jaipur, 2009.

Spiritual Anatomy

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