Gitanjali & Morning Jpeg Joy

[Guest guest]

Thank you dear one for abundant manifestation of creativity and bringing joy.

 

May the same joy come to you.

 

Love and blessings.

 

> "Mazie Lane" <sraddha54

> 2004/06/19 Sat PM 08:40:10 CDT

>

> Gitanjali & Morning Jpeg Joy

>

>

 

Love, serve, and be helpful but without getting disgusted, tired, pessimistic,

and exhausted

[Guest guest]

Pictures didn't show, Sam

-

Mazie Lane

Sunday, June 20, 2004 3:40 AM

Gitanjali & Morning Jpeg Joy

Only Thee

That I want thee, only thee---let my heart repeat without end.

All desires that distract me, day and night,

are false and empty to the core.

As the night keeps hidden in its gloom the petition for light,

even thus in the depth of my unconsciousness rings the cry

---`I want thee, only thee'.

As the storm still seeks its end in peace

when it strikes against peace with all its might,

even thus my rebellion strikes against thy love

and still its cry is

---`I want thee, only thee'.

Light

Light, my light, the world-filling light, the eye-kissing light, heart-sweetening light!

Ah, the light dances, my darling, at the center of my life; the light

strikes, my darling, the chords of my love; the sky opens, the wind

runs wild, laughter passes over the earth.

The butterflies spread their sails on the sea of light. Lilies and

jasmines surge up on the crest of the waves of light.

The light is shattered into gold on every cloud, my darling, and it scatters gems in profusion.

Mirth spreads from leaf to leaf, my darling, and gladness without

measure. The heaven's river has drowned its banks and the flood of

joy is abroad.

Seashore

On the seashore of endless worlds children meet. The infinite sky is

motionless overhead and the restless water is boisterous. On the

seashore of endless worlds the children meet with shouts and dances.

They build their houses with sand and they play with empty shells.

With withered leaves they weave their boats and smilingly float them

on the vast deep. Children have their play on the seashore of worlds.

 

They know not how to swim, they know not how to cast nets. Pearl

fishers dive for pearls, merchants sail in their ships, while

children gather pebbles and scatter them again. They seek not for

hidden treasures, they know not how to cast nets.

The sea surges up with laughter and pale gleams the smile of the sea

beach. Death-dealing waves sing meaningless ballads to the children,

even like a mother while rocking her baby's cradle. The sea plays

with children, and pale gleams the smile of the sea beach.

On the seashore of endless worlds children meet. Tempest roams in the

pathless sky, ships get wrecked in the trackless water, death is

abroad and children play. On the seashore of endless worlds is the

great meeting of children.

Old and New

Thou hast made me known to friends whom I knew not. Thou hast given me

seats in homes not my own. Thou hast brought the distant near and made

a brother of the stranger.

I am uneasy at heart when I have to leave my accustomed shelter; I

forget that there abides the old in the new, and that there also thou

abidest.

Through birth and death, in this world or in others, wherever thou

leadest me it is thou, the same, the one companion of my endless life

who ever linkest my heart with bonds of joy to the unfamiliar.

When one knows thee, then alien there is none, then no door is shut.

Oh, grant me my prayer that I may never lose the bliss of the touch

of the one in the play of many.

Stream of Life

The same stream of life that runs through my veins night and day runs

through the world and dances in rhythmic measures.

It is the same life that shoots in joy through the dust of the earth

in numberless blades of grass and breaks into tumultuous waves of

leaves and flowers.

It is the same life that is rocked in the ocean-cradle of birth and of death, in ebb and in flow.

I feel my limbs are made glorious by the touch of this world of life.

And my pride is from the life-throb of ages dancing in my blood this

moment.

Maya

That I should make much of myself and turn it on all sides, thus

casting colored shadows on thy radiance ---such is thy Maya.

Thou settest a barrier in thine own being and then callest thy severed

self in myriad notes. This thy self-separation has taken body in me.

The poignant song is echoed through all the sky in many-coloued tears

and smiles, alarms and hopes; waves rise up and sink again, dreams

break and form. In me is thy own defeat of self.

This screen that thou hast raised is painted with innumerable figures

with the brush of the night and the day. Behind it thy seat is woven

in wondrous mysteries of curves, casting away all barren lines of

straightness.

The great pageant of thee and me has overspread the sky. With the tune

of thee and me all the air is vibrant, and all ages pass with the

hiding and seeking of thee and me.

Senses

Deliverance is not for me in renunciation. I feel the embrace of

freedom in a thousand bonds of delight.

Thou ever pourest for me the fresh draught of thy wine of various

colours and fragrance, filling this earthen vessel to the brim.

My world will light its hundred different lamps with thy flame and

place them before the altar of thy temple.

No, I will never shut the doors of my senses. The delights of sight

and hearing and touch will bear thy delight.

Yes, all my illusions will burn into illumination of joy, and all my

desires ripen into fruits of love.

Lost Star

When the creation was new and all the stars shone in their first

splendor, the gods held their assembly in the sky and sang `Oh, the

picture of perfection! the joy unalloyed!'

But one cried of a sudden ---`It seems that somewhere there is a break

in the chain of light and one of the stars has been lost.'

The golden string of their harp snapped, their song stopped, and they

cried in dismay ---`Yes, that lost star was the best, she was the

glory of all heavens!'

>From that day the search is unceasing for her, and the cry goes on

from one to the other that in her the world has lost its one joy!

Only in the deepest silence of night the stars smile and whisper among

themselves ---`Vain is this seeking! unbroken perfection is over all!'

 

Lost Time

On many an idle day have I grieved over lost time. But it is never

lost, my lord. Thou hast taken every moment of my life in thine own

hands.

Hidden in the heart of things thou art nourishing seeds into sprouts,

buds into blossoms, and ripening flowers into fruitfulness.

I was tired and sleeping on my idle bed and imagined all work had

ceased. In the morning I woke up and found my garden full with

wonders of flowers.

Brink of Eternity

In desperate hope I go and search for her in all the corners of my room; I find her not.

My house is small and what once has gone from it can never be regained.

But infinite is thy mansion, my lord, and seeking her I have to come to thy door.

I stand under the golden canopy of thine evening sky and I lift my eager eyes to thy face.

I have come to the brink of eternity from which nothing can vanish

---no hope, no happiness, no vision of a face seen through tears.

Oh, dip my emptied life into that ocean, plunge it into the deepest

fullness. Let me for once feel that lost sweet touch in the allness

of the universe.

Untimely Leave

No more noisy, loud words from me---such is my master's will.

Henceforth I deal in whispers. The speech of my heart will be carried

on in murmurings of a song.

Men hasten to the King's market. All the buyers and sellers are there.

But I have my untimely leave in the middle of the day, in the thick of

work.

Let then the flowers come out in my garden, though it is not their

time; and let the midday bees strike up their lazy hum.

Full many an hour have I spent in the strife of the good and the evil,

but now it is the pleasure of my playmate of the empty days to draw my

heart on to him; and I know not why is this sudden call to what

useless inconsequence!

Last Curtain

I know that the day will come when my sight of this earth shall be

lost, and life will take its leave in silence, drawing the last

curtain over my eyes.

Yet stars will watch at night, and morning rise as before, and hours

heave like sea waves casting up pleasures and pains.

When I think of this end of my moments, the barrier of the moments

breaks and I see by the light of death thy world with its careless

treasures. Rare is its lowliest seat, rare is its meanest of lives.

Things that I longed for in vain and things that I got ---let them

pass. Let me but truly possess the things that I ever spurned and

overlooked.

Threshold

I was not aware of the moment when I first crossed the threshold of this life.

What was the power that made me open out into this vast mystery like a

bud in the forest at midnight!

When in the morning I looked upon the light I felt in a moment that I

was no stranger in this world, that the inscrutable without name and

form had taken me in its arms in the form of my own mother.

Even so, in death the same unknown will appear as ever known to me.

And because I love this life, I know I shall love death as well.

The child cries out when from the right breast the mother takes it

away, in the very next moment to find in the left one its

consolation.

Parting Words

When I go from hence let this be my parting word, that what I have seen is unsurpassable.

I have tasted of the hidden honey of this lotus that expands on the

ocean of light, and thus am I blessed ---let this be my parting word.

 

In this playhouse of infinite forms I have had my play and here have I

caught sight of him that is formless.

My whole body and my limbs have thrilled with his touch who is beyond

touch; and if the end comes here, let it come ---let this be my

parting word.

Ocean of Forms

I dive down into the depth of the ocean of forms, hoping to gain the perfect pearl of the formless.

No more sailing from harbor to harbor with this my weather-beaten

boat. The days are long passed when my sport was to be tossed on

waves.

And now I am eager to die into the deathless.

Into the audience hall by the fathomless abyss where swells up the

music of toneless strings I shall take this harp of my life.

I shall tune it to the notes of forever, and when it has sobbed out

its last utterance, lay down my silent harp at the feet of the

silent.

Sit Smiling

I boasted among men that I had known you. They see your pictures in

all works of mine. They come and ask me, `Who is he?' I know not how

to answer them. I say, `Indeed, I cannot tell.' They blame me and

they go away in scorn. And you sit there smiling.

I put my tales of you into lasting songs. The secret gushes out from

my heart. They come and ask me, `Tell me all your meanings.' I know

not how to answer them. I say, `Ah, who knows what they mean!' They

smile and go away in utter scorn. And you sit there smiling.

Salutation

In one salutation to thee, my God, let all my senses spread out and touch this world at thy feet.

Like a rain-cloud of July hung low with its burden of unshed showers

let all my mind bend down at thy door in one salutation to thee.

Let all my songs gather together their diverse strains into a single

current and flow to a sea of silence in one salutation to thee.

Like a flock of homesick cranes flying night and day back to their

mountain nests let all my life take its voyage to its eternal home in

one salutation to thee.

~ Rabindranath Tagore, "Gitanjali"

LoveAlways,

IIazie

/join

"Love itself

is the actual form of God."Sri RamanaIn "Letters from Sri

Ramanasramam" by Suri Nagamma