A WALK THROUGH THE PORTALS OF HISTORY
One sweet morning,before the sun had risen,
we stepped out of the shackles of time's prison,
by some inner burning passion driven.
Harmonious and peaceful,unconscious of passing time,
walking and silently communicating of no materialistic grime,
heady from the vista of an age in its spiritual prime.
A steep rockface and rock cut steps,
undaunted and curious we climbed one of natures rocky laps,
breathless, tired and breathing in gasps.
There we stood at the gate of a cave,
where monks had dedicatedly courted a spiritual mate,
a tribute to their fervour, the pillars did radiate.
Mighty as ever they stood as if in prayer,
to the haloed stupa entrusted in their care,
through an arched window did the sun bathe it in it's light fair.
Arched and cracked the two thousand year old teak wood,
drooping,yet still sturdy with responsibility it stood,
pious pilgrims and murderous vandals did what they could.
To time's vagaries are they vincible,
A monument to divine mysteries unsolvable,
to awe, disgust or inspire us mortals vulnerable.
Were they heros or cowards?, that chose to live away,
far from the madding crowd and it's materialistic sway,
to contemplate on some abstract power which has held seeker's at bay.
So far incredibly difficult to assail,
in hardship and purity but to what avail?
to escape from the clutches of MAYA to fall into a divine jail.
This landmark of history is condemned to stand frozen in time,
to highlight their cowardice or glory sublime,
society moves on unheeding,uncaring of lessons buried in time.
In reverence to the flabergasting 'eternal riddle',
to live,sin and suffer or run away and in hard rocks cuddle,
or to be on the safe side and tread the Golden Middle.
( trhe 90's again written after a visit to the Karle caves in maharashtra near Pune)
One sweet morning,before the sun had risen,
we stepped out of the shackles of time's prison,
by some inner burning passion driven.
Harmonious and peaceful,unconscious of passing time,
walking and silently communicating of no materialistic grime,
heady from the vista of an age in its spiritual prime.
A steep rockface and rock cut steps,
undaunted and curious we climbed one of natures rocky laps,
breathless, tired and breathing in gasps.
There we stood at the gate of a cave,
where monks had dedicatedly courted a spiritual mate,
a tribute to their fervour, the pillars did radiate.
Mighty as ever they stood as if in prayer,
to the haloed stupa entrusted in their care,
through an arched window did the sun bathe it in it's light fair.
Arched and cracked the two thousand year old teak wood,
drooping,yet still sturdy with responsibility it stood,
pious pilgrims and murderous vandals did what they could.
To time's vagaries are they vincible,
A monument to divine mysteries unsolvable,
to awe, disgust or inspire us mortals vulnerable.
Were they heros or cowards?, that chose to live away,
far from the madding crowd and it's materialistic sway,
to contemplate on some abstract power which has held seeker's at bay.
So far incredibly difficult to assail,
in hardship and purity but to what avail?
to escape from the clutches of MAYA to fall into a divine jail.
This landmark of history is condemned to stand frozen in time,
to highlight their cowardice or glory sublime,
society moves on unheeding,uncaring of lessons buried in time.
In reverence to the flabergasting 'eternal riddle',
to live,sin and suffer or run away and in hard rocks cuddle,
or to be on the safe side and tread the Golden Middle.
( trhe 90's again written after a visit to the Karle caves in maharashtra near Pune)
Old times!! Good times!!
ReplyDeleteStill fondly remember our trip to the Karle caves. The maddening crowds might be a projection of today's reality vs. an actuality. May be they just liked the view, and a freedom from predators - two and four footed alike.
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