Poems upon meeting Mother for the first time

[Guest guest]

Dear ones,

 

I have been asked by a devotee friend (who does not have a computer) to post

these two beautiful poems onto our Amma net. My friend told me that they were

written by a woman who just met Mother for the first time while She was in

San Ramon in November. I don't know Valery who wrote the poems, but I will

find a way to send her any responses her poems might inspire. (Thoughts of

publication come to my mind.)

 

At Her Feet,

vaishnavi

 

 

 

DARSHAN

 

Touched by our great mother

we tumble into nothingness and

everythingness.

An impending saffron sunset

floods through music and voice

rising and falling like breath

of a new borning universe,

takes form in the sari of a young girl

walking down an aisle toward destiny,

gathers together in the faces

and folded hands of hundreds grouped

around an alter of expectant devotion,

moves out into thousands, millions, billions -

the great throng of us dancing on

this world of ours, all circled round,

hands folded, hearts yielded up to

the great mystery.

And we too kneel quietly, hands folded,

hearts yielding,

while our souls cavort unrestrainedly

through a universe of such beauty and power

that the sunset arriving at last

can only condense the essence of all this

into sweet, honeyed droplets

descending slowly into our soul.

 

Valery Scott

 

 

 

INITIATION

 

Insight strikes and cleaves everything through which it passes.

 

Nothing is ever the same again.

 

The domain of time is so shattered that

 

nothing can follow neatly upon the

 

carefully laid trails of a former self.

 

The new path cuts through at a different angle,

 

a new existence is required to travel it.

 

New eyes are required to follow this curvature of space

 

that enfolds me now within an evolving world

 

forming inexorably around my own core.

 

Knowledge of its coming spreads through cellular structures

 

like a slow blossoming fire building momentum

 

toward some ultimate conflagration.

 

It is a world that burns, a self.

 

I have to leave you, beloved.

 

I have fallen away from the she whose heart beat with yours,

 

Shapeless, shapeshifting, shape evolving,

 

I hardly know how to address this new visage

 

nor where I shall find a mirror in which to perceive it.

 

 

Valery Scott