Here is a little poem, written on a Monday afternoon. There is nothing special to say about it. This poem is a chanting to the guru. I feel it this way. It is a part of me, in me, the part that is in Northern India in the Himalayas, and that I miss very much. Sometimes I call it glimpses, sometimes I call imagination, whatever it is, it is strong, powerful and beyond time and space.
Whenever we call for Guru
The wind blows like a soft breeze
Melodious and infinite
That dissolves itself in time and space!
And we fly in direction to the clear light.
Whenever we call for Guru
The sun expands itself
The flowers blossom
The birds sing harmoniously
As a whisper of a sweet voice
Flowing from the heart of a beautiful princess
Sleeping in the mountains of Northern India.
Whenever we call for Guru
Transcendancy occurs in the fusion of light and silence.
Where the true essence lies
Where everything is just a mirage
A gentle glimpse of the wind’s breeze.
Whenever we call for Guru
A timeless beauty arises
From the white background of the moutains
And the wind
It blows lightly on the silky black hair
Of the beautiful Northern India’s princess
Of a primordial nature
That belongs to the essence of the Master’s heart.
Featured image: Princess, by Karl Bang, Shanghai.