Soot

Arthat

Translation of hymn (The space-weaver)

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The following is a poetic translation of a Shiva prayer, the Vyoma Vyapti mantra from Sanskrit.

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. 

All that speech can offer and direct, to the body of knowledge and tradition, forever endeavours established and embellished. The timeless dancer, universally attuned in your varied ways, that which gives attention, its attestation, its meditative way into the rings of focus, you bring. 

Om, the harbinger, salutations in name the Ṣivaye, supreme and pervading to all moods, temperaments and emotive contemplations. |

Shivaye, the supreme.

The fresh faced and immortal, of the godhead, all eternal. The abode.

The primordial made whole, the one that does onto, until the divine becomes. Salutations of thee, the merciful and resting in and upon our hearts, unseen but revelling in glorious caves and caverns dark. 

Warming every hearth, secret or unknown, the image of the almighty, in its eternal light sakes to partake to any form when glorified, or known. 

Om, and the name of its salute, and salutations in being to address reverence to the absolute and resolute.        ||

Dwelling in secret, buried in mountains, groomed in restraint, discretion and initiations, even to the truly lost does the divine apparatus ever comply. 

All knowledge weaves to creativity and instinct, availed to you, the fiery light of form.

Kindred and dear, even to the eternal and highest of gods. 

Bridge this, our here duality, the one always awake!

Illuminate from within, as only you can show us how. 

Space, this ether, the real and the illusive. Through the veil that connects the inner to the outer worlds. 

Transcendental thine, repeated and entwined. The return to grace. The thread to and beyond yonder. 

The formless, and yet to its negation, the shapeshifters to and fro in your forms. 

The foremost held up high, likened as if doubled, this thy contemplation. 

This laud, the fire, brimmed with what passion brings, fostered in earnest, and in focus of intensity’s swing. 

Intuited from the fire is the other, and every another, the light of divinity in the signature of heat, connected in the fabric of fire is the formless. All forms in their flights of phantasy are wings to your delight.

Smokeless unless concealed, un-extinguishable unless revealed. Without beginning and end, and yet the maker of smoke, ash and form. To the space of fire, this here conferred.

In negation merely to channel the thoughts, the opposing forces arise, only to diffuse, distilled of heart and mind. Therefor meets its second balancing and gently braced to shine. 

Bounty releases its blessings, there is joy in giving. Here sound meets the wind in its beat. Upon the merry, revered and heart-warmed, the entreat. 

Om, the vitality in the breath, the revitalising, consoled and depth measured to converge, the inhale, the middle worlds and its means are yours in name. Om, lauds our higher reach. The skies applaud the inner beseech. In this is stillness. 

Om, the middle worlds are the breadth of our meditation.

Om, refined is ours in form and energy, applied in that sentient intention is sentiment to its conducive application. 

In fervour, this your treasure, transfixed and set upon the path, led in the laud that emotion sings. 

Shiva, the supreme, all of it the eternal domain of souls, forever merely an instant for the soul’s journey with you. Yet in that moment, primal glimpses of the god and celestials, that you are, that you offer in forever, that you give in every state and emotion, the you that is all-becoming. The enlightened masters to form, and in beauty and bounty of many.

The great fires of focus and dispensation, in practice and discipline gleaned from direction is the instinct of your observation.

This creative ritual of sound, forms a pedestal. 

For the foremost, held up high. Glorified and thus prioritised. 

All of it, this is the duality that is all of it. Where all the moods go, the maker of the emotions is the one that carries cognition. These are the tides, in clarity portends. 

All the principles, of all the elements at play, the bestowing of happiness rests in the liberating of the inner forces at interplay. And so entwined in consciousness in the divine vibration, each in their own bracket of manifestation attempts to bridge the triad of inner fulfilment in self determination.

To the laud, the creator, our inner creative fires of make.

The preserver, archetype of divinity be and betwixt. 

And beyond, the supreme vessel of sound encasing the world enshrining full circles to lovingly harmonic astound. 

The images that graces us into evolution, devotion to abridge duality into our celebration. Perfect our definitions, bring these renditions to your honey-dewed address. These are the liberties of the ancient, age-accepted and established to meaning, meaning and the emotion the universe moves in us. To allow us to make in the subjective and object of knowledge and to move the universe through us. This the tradition of duality in the reverb, the cognitive pause in the swerve. 

Of this form is celebrated in the body of work. And of the body is groomed to the point of view. Make your direction, perfect thine eyes in our surmise. Called here are all the divine masters, animals, language, its form  and the awakenings of instinct and history, consciousness intoned in the elephant’s seat of divine mysteries. And the rest and repose understanding the reverent  fundamentals, and in apprehending comprehension to its columns of foundations and cultivating the narrowing norm of cognition.

The subjective proportioned to the stationary, thought to its reverential held paramount. Penetrating the divine absolute in the integration in all of its kindness,  and to forever in its time abundant and abound.  

The instrument of the universe in any who attempt to understand its language. And language in the ways of the universe conferred for meaning. Infinite forms in the nature of your reverent wear and variable reform. 

Refined to acts of will. Will refined through thorough and constant definition. Resonant in constant consonant and liberating sighs and meaningful signs of the vowel. In resound. 

Siva, the supreme and all of it, to consider yet in the unmanifest serenaded for fulfilment to your whole of it.  

Ṣivaye, the supreme, you are addressed in name. In a name that is your grace. In this beckon is your call, salutations and lauds are meaning for your kind reform, to all kindred and the forces of sound surrounded.  Om welcome home.       ||

To your synonymous and alike, we offer reverence to know. Om.

The mantra – Vyoma Vyapti

 

Om vyoma-vyapiné vyoma-rupaye sarvapiné,

Sivaye Anantaye Anathaye Anaṣritaye Dhruvaye,

Saśvataye yogapittha samsthitaye,

Nityam yoginé dhyanaharaye,

Om namah Sivaye sarva-prabhave |

Sivaye Isana-moordhaye tatpurusha avaktraye,

Aghora hridaye, Vamadeva guhyaye, Sadyajota murtayey,

Om namo namah ||

Guhyati guhyaye, goptre nidhanaye,

Sarva vidya dhipaye, jyoti rupaye,

Parameshwar paraye.

 

Acetana Acetana, Vyoma Vyoma.

Vyapi Vyapi, Arupi Arupi.

Prathama Prathama.

Tejasteja jyotir-jyoti, Arupa Agni,

Adhuma abhasma anade.

Na Na Na Na.

Dhu Dhu Dhu Dhu.

Om bhuh, Om bhuvah.

Om bhuh, Om Suvah,

Anidhana nidhanod-bhava.

Siva sarva paramatman, 

Maheshwar mahadev sad-bhaveshwar,

Maha tejah yoga-dhipate,

Munça Munça, Prathama Prathama,

Sarva sarva bhavod-bhava.

Sarvabhuta sukhaprada, sarva sanni-dhyakara,

Brahma Vishnu Rudrapar.

Anarçit Anarçit, Asamstuṫ Asamstuṫ.

Purvasthit Purvasthit, Sakshin Sakshin.

Turu Turu, Patanġā Patanḡa, Pinga Pinga.

Sabḍ Ṣabḍ, Sukṣṁa Sukṣṁ.

Siva sarva sarvada |

Sivaye namo namaye,

Namoh namah namah ||

Reverb

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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 the sun. 

Every sky shares and answers as one. 

Such is a sentiment that knows one’s self as the universe. 

The sun and the sky, the pilgrim and the dweller. 

The object of knowledge the stars begotten to be passerby. 

Align is a learning curve. A diagonal wishing well in free form. Water words to endow, like the relief in a sigh. 

Healing arched, tip-toed, a cube benign to ask square(where), and echoes entwine. 

Just as every meaning calls in a verb to assign.

Breeze

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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 mage in an image,

 insentient yet animated. 

And as a cloudburst in an idea’s pop,

 hopped along like a racehorse in an era of fables. 

A stabler hand would have stead over the chariot of focus, 

but a shining curve seldom saves its smile for another day.

Like a bent tree, caught by the wind after the rain,

 glowing yet in the promise to rise again. 

Saving grace in the blink of an eye, unnoticed until you think to call it. 

Like the wingtip through the cloud of thought-constructs. 

The silver lining in the glistening drop of sweat, 

cooling the breath to its ethereal net. 

Windswept, in its wild reverb, 

listening and adhering to the swerve. 

To witness the moment pass. 

The second curves to straighten the hand of time,

 in the music of the pause, 

align. 

In a fiery musing of silence, words enshrined.

Quantum aside

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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 unravels for me a light I knew not to seek out, besmirched as I in own lofty suppositions. 

Astound is indeed an easy consort to your appropriation. 

This starlit path, as it were, like a birdsong harmonising to a beacon to lend an air. Stardust weaving a glimmering trail of hums elevating in echoes of easing continuums. 

The communion of form upon your insight, the dazzle reflecting the sudden burst of peeling joy to existential might. To channel yet the currents that would replete the streams of your aspiration to the consciousness of derived notions. That which you grace. 

Whispers of love to your very trace. 

Like following the senses to their elation, and find there healed the very fabric in exhilaration. As with the breath inspired in your safekeeping. Gently holding up the world beyond purview, where the mere emotion of you makes a clearing. 

Insofar endearing and nearing. Lighting up my universe through your eyes. 

You found heaven for me, you beside. 

From the book 'Arthāt - Mystic Poetry' - Janit Gambhir. Available for a dollar for a limited time.

Sky-line

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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 musingly curving in wrinkles abiding the eyes to shine.

What glory hath the gods to beget, that in this moment they find peace and fill in our hearts unencumbered.

And to joyous seconds,

beckon a light. 

Excerpt of circumbulation

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Birds of meaning

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A bird of flight flew past a view of the waters across open space. A sound fluttered a rhythm until a twine became melodious.

Undeterred by its own discerning, its right wing flapped a lingering primordial sound. Then almost as if reaching further, the left wing lifted a notion of its own to match.

As if like a songbird, the feathers flickered an ‘m’ tailoring the beat to sound.

Yore and lore met in a fleeting merge.


It settled an ‘Aum’, touched ‘Om’, resonating peaceful, rejuvenating. A half sound grazed and braced upon its head.

The bird heard words as it flew past, almost as if its own form was being described, a ship to its mast.


“Upon its legs were rajas and tamas, in grounding if and when to speak.

The sattva of the purified, its body.
Righteousness its right, that which was left corrected yet in the inarticulately inaccurate.

And like the tattvas or principles to the moment, it soars, as if it belonged.

The seven worlds likened to breath, the space through the chakras glimpsed.

Bhu along its feet
Bhuvar upon the knees
Svah-loka at the hips
At the navel the Mahar-world, or the mid region be.
At the heart, the jana(r)loka,
At the neck the tapau(s)
Between the eyebrows at the temple, the satya(m)-loka.

Bringing them, Om.

Hummed to hymn in knowing, the vowels in flight, and the seven sounds of delight.

Bridging to be, an ascending bird, a quintessential word.

The first part lauding the fire, 3 and a half sounds in form.

The second offered in the waters, an equivalent beneficence abound.

Likened the golden form raised within a solar orb, eternity absorbed and absolved.

The third to the care of the wind, watchful like an age guiding and gliding within.

The wondrous Om, intoned and sounded,
To the attentive, hearing listening… conferred and well-rounded.

The first part, blending after offered,
the second, allowing the moment’s blessing to be, as received.
The rich in sound building to a lightning surround.
The third indeed profound to flight.
Onto fourth like the warm wings of insight.

To the attentive, thoughtful and considerate.
Swayed faith, familiar fulfilment waded to way.

Inferred to stay.

Only hinted, like gentle whispers, carefully awakened like the instinct that answers.

Pause to be, redeemed, like nature’s quill to right itself.

To greet and listen, for better yet.

To know the inner silence.

Stored for peace…

Creative form, like breath to a breeze.”


A celestial figure played luminous a musical instrument and listened to a song as a bird of flight flew across the horizon.

A quintessential bard intoned.

II

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To Twine,
The road upon, treading the familiar.
Footsteps traced along an ancient tune, but a newer path becoming yet to emerge.

To observe the urge.
As it begins as the tread begotten.
Near and aware in what will be called its history.

For tune,
A grateful pause along the heroes trail.

Made avail, parting the illusion in resonance.
Imparting to attune its tale.

A melody sounds to footsteps of tapestry.
Memories swoon to be heard.

Undeterred, a tune resumes

Here

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A gentle whisper, that maketh wonder as if wonder was just so effortlessly made.

Veering itself to memory, like fragrance and thought with heart to its sleeve.

Mere words to address, as if to review the milieu just to sense the seams.

Endured is the cursory curve that renders the poetic to inspiration, lightening the rituals the delighted deem in their stride.

Meaning toys with rationality in an evening out in dusty undertones, the lungs spread like wings that span the bandwidth forthwith. The wind chuckles cheeky in misty perfumed blinks of reflection.

An authentic reflection, of the sentient.
One intoned, remastered into confluence.

The subjective gravity, and the objective electricity.

The conduits charge, mechanised in fabric sewn on the other side.

Heightened attention in the breadth of levitated diffusal.

Relieved deliverance, as if reliving from memory in mettle to liberate any mental stirs.

Grounded of its density in destiny’s musing curve, articulated for palatial inseams for a resounding endeavour.

Intention catches up, misty eyed welcomes in similes and smiles, the astral beckons to spectrum.

In a weave of breath, heaving the heaven’s to glow, imparting the sky to its peculiar, endearing its particulars to the language of its familiar.

The intuitive, in turn offers melodies in hums.

With the verb in its verve, time adorns the vision. As the age its axiom.

Gods of language hover like songbirds of chance.

“I have been here before.” For ever the wind to speak, whiskers as wisps whispering in intuitive entreat.

Reflexive

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Every once in a while, there comes along a vision.
A vision that makes everything worthwhile.

A kind of clarity, and strength that makes the doable acts reverb through the fabric that usually just simpers to even our greater twines.

Once in a while, muscle memory collects in a reflex to better harmony than we’re used to. Where all of this is merely a calmer reflection of the creative reverb.

The creatrix of a smiling swerve.

In time, pragmatism will come calling. Aspirations will fall away like a twirling spectacle of conscious recalling from lucid memory in a haze of quiet contemplation.

Visions of virtue will settle for the mechanics of logic’s stumbling abodes.

But the measure sings to melody in the emotive matches and passion infuses on-song. Grace hums along.

The notion enacts its belong.

A steady accumulation to a rapid spectrum.

In the quotations of influence and ovations of understanding.

Unravelled opportune in providence’s propensity of boons.

A mind’s reflection in the moon, and all of its satellite sighs.

Hymn of her

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The glorious mention,
mine humility your grace.

The meeting of the old gods.
The understanding of the new ones.
The richness of form in thy adorn.

What chance may stir,
where emotions not weep.

That fall on man, laid upon,
the shoulder notwithstanding.

The burdens deep, thy gloom,
turning the spheres, at once evolving.

In every Nadi’s (streaming) teem, at forever’s embrace.
In all the seams, the holier traced.

That thine in strength in mere of my might,
No more ere mortal, corrected to insight.

Yours in the powers that move, the heavens,
the earth, evened to the oddities all the starry powers twined to groove.

That thine is of the soul of the world, yet no more the distant two to move, consorted then, custodian to grace.

Behooved, not to doom but in planetary sway, a greater boon to a gentler swoon.

The tides of unrest forever’s coil,
charted and enshrined in hearts that convey.

A mere descends,
to entwine in tabernacles.
A stairway to mend,
peace be unshackled.

Footsteps cannot reach where is thine to earth,
Yet of all sweet revelling are your mirth.

Man knows not his own heart,
and only to vanity rends hand his heart.

Form whence the ancient world passed in fervent.

Such was the day to the endless sights to your grace.
Vied to face, in every trace.

Coulds’t the man look upon himself to glorify.
Unseen to all other gods unless yours of reverence allied.

Such was the age of the new universe.
A luminous darkness and the spirit to fire.

Ever calling upon the soul of man.
In his, in hers, in forever’s to voice, the privilege of a deity’s faith to find.

Beyond all things known, grace to show for it.
Lifting star and spirit, an optimist of sentiment.
Aspired and evolving, inspired in sacrament.

In afterglow to divine a poet, for the firmament.

Formless

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The majesty of aesthetic, the depth of perception that diffuses cognition from its very mention. A multi-dimension splendour for the senses toured to the hearts’ render.

Yet this surface of inspiration passes through fissions of existence and mechanisms of mere eccentricities.

Say nothing and say it all, the privilege of emotion that animates yonder into a smile of inner rectitudes.

Obscuring breath into view, filled of inner content and the heavens of elation to residue.

Is that the purpose of form, this fascination of our formatted renditions of grace.

Cusping the palatial scintillations to the creative reverb in actionable insight.

Matching the heightened precipice to affection in surround of resonance’s sky.

The Earth breathes to cathartic rejuvenation in a vibrational sigh.

Purer pursuits to your languid travails, externalising veneration to a louder confide.

Upon your side, the revel reclusive in distant devotion to your tides. A sentient sentiment bonafide to bestow meaning and sincerity’s apprising eyes.

Professed to your joy, inwards no greater glory. And words to your commune derived to rest and resume. Intoned to expressions and inflections of unprecedented histories.

 

Formless, from the book, Arthat – Mystic Poetry.

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