You, the infinite. Ever extending, brightened insight. The constant prayer, the inner silence overlapping. Jubilation’s chair, hope in repair. Envisioned spectacular ceremonial mapping. A heightened accord, a breath-full of words. A heart-warmed ford to breeze through the formless. Your subtle starlight, strumming reflections elevating the air. Singing the day’s symphonies, dancing celestials the shadows in …
Grace is, as you do. Form is as you heighten. Somewhere in the midst of existence is the marvel that you are. Any that find you, are blessed for it. Such is insight in your envision. This day is special to history, as with its yearly celebrate, for its kindness blurs the very depth of …
The opposite. For it is found, then profound. For in affinity, as it first set out in question. Wandering witness. Infinity born upon its head. Becoming that which is all-becoming. Then reverting to its true personality. The opposite in reflection. To all contain, then set out again. An answer found, now again the question wanders, …
The Taurean sat and composed a song. It helmed all the other archetypes into a musical tether. And then hummed for itself another. One would have thunk, if one was a Taurus, but for that, it fit the Aries. And perfectly allowed the spark into flame to be. ‘I would have to have to find …
“Steady thy steeds” spurred the process. Many a smile still upon the path. Circumvent the aftermath of speculation. There is a bask in understanding, cultivated in patience is a glow pacified of heartburn’s toil. Ancient notions are resolved in their own remarkability, conducive to insight is its own opportune. Crooned for tune in stead, carrying …
Healer, thy ways are winding. Constant to the mind, in all else divined. Content to your kind, the personal steps away from the self. In the knowing and the known, untethered in being, outside of its reap, and into the sown. Inside or outside, the cognition swings minding wings. A pawn in time, its crowning …
Where do you go to, my lovely? Star light often pairs. – 10 eternal pairings of Indian mythological characters in the stars. Eternity is a strange notion, but one that the promise of affection always covets. Naturally, most romantic notions start in the stars, the becoming of the sun and the subsequent reflection of the …
Betwixt because It is the Zodiac that represents the stars in our inner sky. In each part of us… extended to its links. But then the zodiac constellation themselves, holding as if in tether in its 30 steps to a degree. That thin line we take to cut a path through the sky. The tantra …
Om, divine salutations to the ethereal and surreal of space, to the one that bridges the barriers and all of its frontiers, to the space that becomes in all forms, salutations to the one that transcends.
Sivaye , the supreme, the lord-maker, make thy form in our reverence.
From beginnings begotten in their ends, the forces of nature in their power to append. The primal in-built enforced in every foundation. Sweet words and glory merely pedestals to raise and grace that which is to behold, affixed in its guiding star of manifestation.
The emergence a river of sound, set upon in arrows bound together in their quiver. The midsummer archer set in the sky, the sun to reflect. Angled to cast in planetary musk to bask. The objective apart, yet within reach. Remaining in the constellations bonafide, a path through the skies. Each star knows itself in …
Along the singing wind, narrating stories to its attentive as to its wayward. Across the weeping rivers, as they bemoan all that the mountains amass. As whispers in the tresses, pulled back and behind memory’s ears. Careening glances still holding sway endearing the breeze to stay. “Awhile, and hear ye.” Cajoling the senses, like a …
You found heaven for me. The gates concealed as they were, to my existence until the point of you in revelation. Now, sight itself wears me in its vernacular, and wonder wrapping the formless to every shape and size to my cognition. You put me together as if strewn prior to your perception. The sheen …
There is an inertia to love, there syllables slip and meaning flits. Where the heights of one exist in the depths of the other. Like some parts of one have to see the eyes of the other. Sheer want of affection cannot scratch that surface. Just as token existence outside of posterity cannot derive outside …
Words can best become hymns. But every so often they resist. Instead they fall into self glorification. Like a siren and its distance, as morning in a song serenading the dusk. The dawning of the sun rendering all travails and tempests of the moon rested. The tides of time encapsulated in a smile, yet and …
Excerpts and artwork for ‘Circumbulation’ from ‘Arthāt – Mystic Poetry’. For complete collections, buy the ebook or print.