From Jeffrey Armstrong | Kavindra Rishi POET
The part of us that does not want to die, is always looking for ecstatic love and endless joy. We are addicts by nature and Divine Intimacy is the original drug of choice which does not degrade us but rather exalts us through hopeless addiction to the good of all, which the Rishis and Sages say is the ancient secret of all Yoga; the priceless treasure of Yogis and the only gift one can give that is never lost. . The Story of My Heart . O Beloved this is the story of my heart, Which like our world has an irregular beat, Struck again and again by darts, Though the worst pain has not been my own defeats. . The worst was watching the innocent die, Agreeing to perish with them, to know of their plight, Their suffering blinded my eyes, Their pain has been the tears of my darkest night. . Drinking this poison has been my addiction, A hateful opiate injected into my veins, Justification for my profligate predilections, Keeping my heart from embracing my brain. . Hungry children suckled my breast, Praying for milk they knew I could not deliver, I was too busy to serve their behest, Listening all night in my palace across the river. . The death rattles of motherless children, Carnival to my orgiastic rites, Commuters on the highway to heaven, Like so many stars, they filled my dreams with light. . This relentless cycle of pain and death, Forced me to seek a refuge beyond its reach, I flew within on the wings of breath And built a home on the shore of an endless beach. . There I watched the infinity waves, Lap upon the shore each day the same, This is the water where drowning saves, And each wave whispers another Holy Name. . Then one day, a note in a bottle arrived, Written on ancient parchment, it spoke of love, It told of a world for those who dived, A subterranean realm below above. . And so, I dove into the brine, No longer breathing in its aqueous deeps, Enflamed by a love-letter from the Lover Divine, Sent from the realms where passion never sleeps. . The current swept me like a fish, Past endless reefs, past galaxies of sand, Directed only by my wish, Guided for years by the touch of an unseen hand. . My drifting ended upon a shore, In a place from which the Truth shines forth eternal, Where I have resided evermore, The seasons change and yet are ever vernal. . The residents are young and play Elaborate games in sets of their invention, While night and day are always day And government is managed by intention. . Far apart, yet very near, Each heartbeat whispers of this place within But only we can choose to hear, Refusing to listen to the voice of love is sin. . And the secret of this hidden realm, Is that our individual atmas are free, It is our hand upon the helm, That creates a world of pain or ecstasy. . Copyright 2020 Jeffrey Armstrong All Rights Reserved I'd be honored if you were to visit my FB poetry Page |