Some devotional poems

I got inspired one morning and wrote them in one go.

As the Jasmine and Gardenia

“Supreme, I love You”.

Even as the jasmine and gardenia

Elucidate You without words,

This capital “I” and “You”

Represent our affair of oneness

Spanning centuries and millenia.

Yet it is “You” who made “me”

Aware of it.

 “ ‘I know, Master, your Compassion is my sword,

Your Compassion is my shield

And your Compassion is my victory’s crown,

Which I shall place at your feet divine.’ “*

(this last quoted section is by Sri Chinmoy, Great Indian Meals, part 3, p. 17)

For anything I have came only from You

Why do I write?

I am silly

Idling away my time.

If only I could love You,

That would be a fair and worthwhile use of time.

‘Worthwhile’ is easy to understand.

But ‘fair’ only someone so helpless like me could understand,

For anything I have came only from You.

Everything starts with You

Why do I hear the birds chirping today?

They could be chirping nevertheless, but

Why did I have to hear them chirp?

My writing is the same.

One day You told me to,

And I did it.

Everything starts with You.

When everything it sees is You

One day I will be forgotten

And that will be a relief,

for I will be born again, and again.

To think that nothing will remain

Except for You

Is also a relief.

My tiny heart yearns for the day

When everything it sees is You.

Contract

Before we play, I want to sign a contract

Agreeing that You will win.

Only I forgot:

We have already done so, so long ago,

That I forgot.

Next time, I will add a clause

That You will not allow me to forget

That

But even then

I will try to breach it.

No wonder I call You

Father.

The Lion and the Lamb

Why the Lion

And not me?

It is clear from Your Silence

That I myself should become like that Animal,

Majestic for what it is,

Courageous about doing what is needed,

Ruthless when doing what is needed,

Indeed a Beast of a Man,

Sitting like a sweet lamb beside Your Throne,

Yearning for a pat of Your Hand.

Before You

You play with my life as in a game of chess

Steadily snatching away my armies and defenses

Until the time comes to take away my main powers,

And yet I yearn, while still playing,

For the day when I will

Capitulate

Before You.

Action is worship

Why have You created words?

Or flowers and fragrant incense, animals and peoples,

And mountain ranges and galaxies myriad?

It is all for Your worship –

We are all priests, and our every

Action is worship.

The English language

In day to day, crisp and straight.

In pens of masters, towering and majestic.

To the beautiful words and mantric sentences,

To the generous and commercial language

That offers its life breath as a workhorse of mankind

That gives voice to spiritual fountains of light that are some men

I do not wish and I do not intend to let end my life

Without even once bowing my head low, very low

To that starclad, majestic and humble jewel

The English language.