Kriya of Self

Khajaraho, India

Triund, Himachal Pradesh, India

I ran, blind and barefoot
into a nameless universe,
immobilized for a time
by the broken hearted shadow
of a star crossed lover -
fragile of heart and mind.
Bruises of black, blue, purple;
bleeding red
in murky rivers of life and death.
Wreckage of love’s excess,
desire’s appetite whet
the sour taste of disappointment
drip dripping off lips
kissed by inner tragedy.
Into the pitch, I ran.
So dark was the void
So deep was the pain,
trampled spirit aching
(unbeknownst to it)
to mouth the word,
tongue, lips, cheek & breath,
“forgiveness”.
The arms of a nameless universe
bent back,
its limbs contorting
Kriyas forming out of
misshapen extremities,
molding deformities into
delicately disgraceful sculptures
out of the Earth’s finest clay.
Upon grand shelves of soul
a thousand hopeful figures placed,
ten repentant fingers work
towards one image,
glimpsed in sunrise hues,
under spells of full moonlight;
heard in chant vibrations,
in the clamor of ancient bells,
felt in heart’s sacred temple,
in momentary flashes of remembrance,
one image of perfect Self.
Bruised & deformed
luminescent & hopeful.
Forgiven.