SELF-MUSING
God is here and now everywhere, inside and outside, penetrating pore and cell, mind and matter, every being, like thread running through pearls in a necklace. He is the immanent principle and He is the transcendent reality, male, female and the conscious neuter Self that encloses all but is beyond reach save through tears of love that seek none else but He. He is the soul of souls, the light of lights, the breath of life and, yet, He eludes the grasp forever even as air playful over the palm escapes in trying to hold, contain it so. He, the eternal, transcends time that shadow-like flows from Him. He, the omnipresent, transcends space that stretches in myth in the mythical mind. He, the ever-free, incessantly works in sport, in play, in gay abandon, while consequences flow from causes spilt at a distance from the serene Self in inscrutable Maya's magical realm. He is the one indivisible Self, the conscious Being that ever broods on itself and unbounded remains in secure infinitude, without hope of replication ever. For the Self is one and an integrated being that exists in wholeness, dimensionless, free, a summation of conceptions from alpha to omega, the resolution of all in a neutral void that is not nought, though.
The universe on reclamation of the disparate units lies suspended above like 'The Hanging Gardens of Babylon' while the ground concrete in solidified existence holds the wavering magical dream. The Self is shrouded as thoughts emerge and silken Maya reveals the mantra that snakelike moves to bear the meaning of cosmos, beings, Self et al. The eye beholds through obstructions clear as the One vanishes to give birth to the many, yet, a link remains that one sees the focus to be the One in every being. Oneself and others are all united in a common bond that departs not till day three runs but short of four and the vision serene becomes memory pure.
Then years pass in frozen time with days and nights scarce moving and it all seems a lengthened day that has no beginning nor end in time. Roads reveal the prostrate Reality and living figures the dynamic Deity in so many forms that dances as She breathes death into the very life of things.
Luminous seem the leaves. Light shines brighter than bright could be as if there is no dark at all in stellar glow. The universe becomes an extension of the Self as in oneness all seem a continuous mass, an unbroken stream of conscious self stretching unto endlessness. And the whole of it is encapsulated in the focus where the Self is, deep within where it silent lies, the witness, the seer, the brooding one, whence its rays all emerged once on a silvery lunar night.
Written by Sugata Bose
God is here and now everywhere, inside and outside, penetrating pore and cell, mind and matter, every being, like thread running through pearls in a necklace. He is the immanent principle and He is the transcendent reality, male, female and the conscious neuter Self that encloses all but is beyond reach save through tears of love that seek none else but He. He is the soul of souls, the light of lights, the breath of life and, yet, He eludes the grasp forever even as air playful over the palm escapes in trying to hold, contain it so. He, the eternal, transcends time that shadow-like flows from Him. He, the omnipresent, transcends space that stretches in myth in the mythical mind. He, the ever-free, incessantly works in sport, in play, in gay abandon, while consequences flow from causes spilt at a distance from the serene Self in inscrutable Maya's magical realm. He is the one indivisible Self, the conscious Being that ever broods on itself and unbounded remains in secure infinitude, without hope of replication ever. For the Self is one and an integrated being that exists in wholeness, dimensionless, free, a summation of conceptions from alpha to omega, the resolution of all in a neutral void that is not nought, though.
The universe on reclamation of the disparate units lies suspended above like 'The Hanging Gardens of Babylon' while the ground concrete in solidified existence holds the wavering magical dream. The Self is shrouded as thoughts emerge and silken Maya reveals the mantra that snakelike moves to bear the meaning of cosmos, beings, Self et al. The eye beholds through obstructions clear as the One vanishes to give birth to the many, yet, a link remains that one sees the focus to be the One in every being. Oneself and others are all united in a common bond that departs not till day three runs but short of four and the vision serene becomes memory pure.
Then years pass in frozen time with days and nights scarce moving and it all seems a lengthened day that has no beginning nor end in time. Roads reveal the prostrate Reality and living figures the dynamic Deity in so many forms that dances as She breathes death into the very life of things.
Luminous seem the leaves. Light shines brighter than bright could be as if there is no dark at all in stellar glow. The universe becomes an extension of the Self as in oneness all seem a continuous mass, an unbroken stream of conscious self stretching unto endlessness. And the whole of it is encapsulated in the focus where the Self is, deep within where it silent lies, the witness, the seer, the brooding one, whence its rays all emerged once on a silvery lunar night.
Written by Sugata Bose
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