The Way to Personal Freedom- 2, Veiled Beauty

I had written this poem a few years ago in a moment of  a spiritual ecstasy and union. It is a feeling of Union and Oneness with Everything.

My love with “It” has been a source of freedom for me. Meditation, knowing oneself, fasting a couple of days a week (or eating less), being awake from dawn to sunrise, all help with this experience. Why is this important? Feel it and you will know.

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I see You in the redness of dawn;

in the virgin sky;

in awakened life at early morn;

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Dove on Deck

in Thunder & Lightening;

in the silence of the Dark Night;

between my shadow and I;

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in the glorious moon and the bright stars;

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in sounds of raindrops:

In the carelessness of children while they play in

Your Thunder, Lightening and Rain;

In waves on an ocean shore;

In the moving wind;

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In hope amidst fear;

In the lust of youth.

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My Allah, O Veiled Beauty, yet I see you not in all Your Majesty:

I see the footprint but not the Foot;

the shadow but not the Object.

I am a shadow of the Object. The Sun will set upon me and my shadow will fade into the Dark Night.

Winter Sunset, Gatineau Parc, Quebec

All that will remain is You. I will return like a raindrop on the ocean back to its Source.

All will perish except Your Face.

My Allah, let me know You as a Friend and let me subsist Within You for an Eternity.

Let the shadow exist without a shadow: in oneness with You

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Happy Moments, Endings, Eternity & God!

1975

I see the passage of time and a moment of moments lived and appreciated in hindsight!

I am not a child anymore. The boy became a man and a shadow of himself. I now understand my beloved grandmother (Maa): This is a world of endings! Everything in it  perishes except the Face of God!

The song by Jagjit Singh, Who Kagaz Ki Kashti, captures the nostalgia Audio:  01 Woh Kagaz Ki Kashti. English translation follows:

Do take my gold, and my fame, if you must
 You can have my youth if you so do will
 But do give me back my childhood showers
 My little paper boat, the fresh rain’s thrill

Do take my gold, and my fame, if you must

 You can have my youth if you so do will
 But do give me back my childhood showers
 My little paper boat, the fresh rain’s thrill

My little paper boat, the fresh rain’s thrill

She, who, lived here as old as the road

She, whom we children, called granny
She, who wrapped fairies in sweet songs

She, whose wrinkles of years so many

 And who, try as much, could forget them
Her fresh long tales filling nights so tiny

My little paper boat, the fresh rain’s thrill

 To walk out in the scorching heat
To larks and those jays and chasing butterflies

We’d marry our dolls and fight over it

 High in our swings jumping far from watchful eyes

And those little trinkets of copper and bark

 Those deep scarlet marks of broken bangles and cries

My little paper boat, the fresh rain’s thrill

To drag our feet over smooth high dunes

A castle here, a hillock there

 Our innocence filling every picture and tune
Our life of toys and dreams

In a world of joy, relations none did prune

Wasn’t it beautiful, that life of ours?