Flowing and Flowering

Seems Like I’ve lost my faith,
In your presumed presence in those glorified idols,
I sincerely beg your pardon , O Thee!
But they don’t seem as profound as they once did to me!

I don’t quite know the reason why,
Nor, to find, too hard I try,
For I feel your presence and glory,
Perhaps a lot more profoundly,
When cold, delightful monsoon winds
Caress me. So gently.
When I look up at the colossal, star-lit sky
Those beautiful drops of violence,
In an eternal ocean of silence,
Nothingness and stillness- expanding and expanding !
From the fragile transition of a caterpillar
to a butterfly unfolding it’s wings
To flawless transition ‘tween seasons,
the glory that each one brings.
So flawlessly everything falls in place,
An existence that flowers with freedom and grace,
Your presence in the moment, I try to embrace,
And cry every time, for I’ve lost my ways.

So much grandiosity flowing with freedom
Unfolding itself with dignity and grace
And yet I wonder why it’s the case,
That, to find you, there are crowded ways,
That lead to a still and enclosed place,
Not flowing. Not flowering.
I don’t mean to say that the place has no beauty
But if really do they find you in such a still place,
Then why are there largely empty ways ,
That lead to exhibition of finest plays,
Nature has on offer, every moment, all days.
Flowing. And flowering.
They enjoy singing to your assigned names,
But never care to watch those little games,
those innocent little birds play,
As sun slowly bids goodbye for the day.
They fight over you; that theirs is supreme
If you don’t agree, they’ll beat and scream.
How doesn’t all this sound paradoxical?
Is it even faith in truest way possible?
Or do those griefs, bring them unto you,
In selfish hope that you’d bless them too,
Hope, that keeps them attached to you,
Until it leads to grief-they’ll blame it on you.
A never ending cycle. But they are attached to you,
Perhaps not as profoundly as you’d want them to.

Regardless, I just pray,
Hold me from going astray,
Enable me to rise,
To those higher levels of consciousness,
Where even the intricate art of those idols,
Draws me without being trapped in those cycles,
Where I get to experience you in full glory,
No bounds, No one. But you to hold me .
A state where everything’s beautiful,
The dead. The alive.
I dance for no reason, to the rhythm sublime,
A state where there is no notion of time!

-Nikesh Lilani