dataLayer = [{"title":"The Yogi at Infinity\u2019s Illusion","author":"aryaputr","wordcount":"381","logged_in":"false","page_id":"244","post_date":"1996-07-11 18:36:10"}]; >

Poetry

The Yogi at Infinity’s Illusion

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Vyomedsky eventually met in himself his gleaming youth.
As he climbed on, a thousand voices spoke in parallel.
Calling out to their myriad beings of delight,
Singing the leaping truth of time-born things.

His life had been a long solitary quest,
To perceive the space and Brahman of knowledge.

He had drunk the zero and was lost in her oneness.

High above the wildest peaks,
Alone and tired, still contending the elements,
He refused to remember the Sherpa’s warnings.

All his aspirations soared towards the temple of his extremes.
He breathed the blazing certitude of his unending conquest.

This fire of perseverance
Must call the divisibility of the eternal One.
And Agni did dunk him in the deepest Self.

All his life he had laid prostate at the portals of Infinity,
And asked of a complete renunciation from earthly life.
Integral growth must stem from seclusion and surrender.

Karma initiated his lessons on Karma itself.

Then, amidst the mind’s amorphous vibrance,
Intuition paid homage to his vast cerebral expanse.
Only to be rendered sterile by the omniscient forces of Destiny.
Further above, the volcano tore up at a Godly pace.

The breath-taking beatitude of lava licking snow,
And even the cry of the deafening avalanche,
Were the last his senses would ever perceive.

As he watched Yama’s arms stretching out in embrace,
He cherished his spirit’s unbound ecstasy.
In the final expression of his soul’s freedom.
Through the immensity of his voiceless mantra,
His Om reached the singularity of God.
And he applauded the workings of this finest providence.

Many hours later, he awoke to the agonizing pain,
Expressing its harmony with his song of gratitude.

He had been answered, the light had descended.
The curtains had been drawn.
It was the end of yet another chapter.

And the beginning of just another one.
The ¯rst step of a long arduous ascent.

He moved on and felt no pain in the pinching blizzard.
Life must move on, and he must move with it.
He did not exist to escape from existence.

Seclusion was the inelegant solution of Deathless Bliss.

His quest pertained to a search of the Supreme within.
In negation of the ulterior extremes of the skies without.
In need of the Godhead’s strength on Earth itself.

(written in Madras)

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