Saturday, February 10, 2007

Some Selected Poem Re-Drafts IV

Karta Purakh

all-enlightening boundless being
His Name is True
never captured
never dying
never by the concept tamed
forming all
all things seeing

every seeing eye He makes
to see Him in a given guise
the wisest knowing Him as light
the sweetest knowing Him as grace
the bravest knowing Him as might
in one everlasting Name

His Name is True
never failing
never bounded by guise or word
He knows no bounding
all expressing
makes each spirit in its kind
builds the souls of living nations
makes them all to sing and live
the bounded masks unbound creation

every living mind He makes
to know Him in a vital guise
the purest heart as vital goodness
the softest heart as touching beauty
the warmest heart as fire truest
every guise is but a glimpsing
none can capture all His Name

all this world is fiercely burning
all this land is mired in flame
save it Lord with showered blessing
through every door that may deliver
save it Lord in every way

unbounded God within His people
moves about in living form
the unformed speaks in bounded creature
takes a shape in living works
the noumenal by all uncaptured
captures all
takes all by storm
through the lovers of the True

overflowing life and being
flooding force of light and love
worship Him in mind and glory
know Him well
His Name is True


Although the sea divides us,
in Amritsar I stand;
my heart rests in the warmth
of its nectar-golden sand.
In a vessel, clay and calm,
made by the guru's hand,
I feel blessing pouring down,
for in Amritsar I stand.

When time pools all around me
like some silent sarovar,
I am in Ramdaspur;
and, whether near or far,
my heart is by those waters
as they shine beneath the stars
around the golden temple
of blessed Amritsar.

When trouble overtakes me
I flee to the fort of steel,
I shelter in the city
with the sacred pools that heal,
I search for the jot of light
where the psalms of gurus peal:
this world is all mirage,
but Amritsar is real.

When My Days are Spent

When my days are spent
may you mourn me thus:
He was the mountain of Tabor,
gently rising,
seeking dawn.

The twigs and boughs make tabernacles
waiting for a conversation,
discourse of a burning fire,
two witnesses to mercy's truth.

See Tabor in her uprising;
she remembers God-great glory,
two far-seers meeting hope;
she trembles, lamb-like, for return.

See Tabor, a lamb for light,
meditation and hesychast,
yearning for a newer coming,
hoping for transfiguration.

A Texas Hymn

The birds woke me at the sunrise hour
when the grass was dewy and all was pale
beneath the light of a high white star
that sang the message
that all was well.

And I in the breeze that trickled down
the blades of grass then quickly wound
around my legs to tickle my feet --
I knew the light, and it was sweet.

The thirsty drink from a flowing spring
and come to life, made quick by source;
as I, when I hear the morning sing
in bird, in light, in wind in winding course,

know, as the rolling sun does rise,
that a Spirit lives, God's own breath,
who fills with light the sky and human eyes
and raises even souls like mine from death.

The Narcissist

So fair is his existence,
no eye resists;
a third of heaven would turn traitor
and give up bliss
for but the lying promise
of his kiss.

The Devil is a lovely creature --
and he knows it.
All creation and his smile
show it.

His beauty is so great,
his style so nice,
his smile sparkles so,
like starlit ice,
that God would die to make him --
were that the price.

Yes, the Devil is a lovely creature --
and he knows it.

He sits up in the air,
face like a god,
devoid of every care!
But it is odd
how lonely he is there
with ruler's rod.

No equal can he notice --
and no friend --
nor can he ever move
nor ever descend;
for if he ever did,
his world would end.

Yes, the Devil is a lovely creature --
and he knows it.
Would to God he had the grace
not to show it!

His beauty has no match.
No equal vies
to rival the mighty light
with which he lies;
it is so easy, and so simple,
to despise
when you lift yourself up higher
than the skies.

Mark well, his beauty even God
has not denied;
but his throne is built on blood
and endless pride,
the corpse of glorious love
when love has died.

Yes, the Devil is a lovely creature --
and he knows it.

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