| Poem | Eid Mubarak!
Born off nothing, a knowledgeable void,
No caste, creed, religion or sect,
neither identification nor dissection of the Self -
until, you made this innocent heart of mine devoid
Of that one true love and universal respect;
by pouring it all - all that you preach,
brimming my empty vessel with all that you teach . . .
Thankfully I know now how to stretch my palm out
Or fully fold them in supplication,
I know now how to cover my head with a fancy cap
or just join the fancy chorus with my thunderous clap,
And sometimes I shout out, after them,
my prayers and those sacred mantras;
But for whom I know not, not at all.
Thankful to you, I know who I am,
or at least pretend to classify
my identity within the realms of your false stories;
I have known to walk the holy path,
without knowing where does it lead to;
And I have memorized my holy scripts,
by hook or crook, even swear by the holy book -
without knowing the underlying esoteric meanings.
And I know my fatwas, the despicable seven sins,
the rule of Karma and all the exaggerated drama;
But, still, somewhere fail to tame the animal reigning deep inside.
And sometimes you forbid to indulge in my harmless cravings,
instead insist it's my duty to kill, against my inner will -
So, I bathe my hands red over your invisible promises;
But I feel lost - losing the long battle with my inner Self!
Here I am! to confide in you, The Unknown,
With whom rarely do I now feel acquainted;
rather seldom blinded by the invisible boundaries -
that divide me from my brothers, and thy blessing hand;
obscured under too many stories, symbols and a plethora of golden rules.
And once a while, they command me to celebrate
and rejoice these dictated moments of freedom, so I pray -
Dear Father,
Tell me there still is the ray,
that shimmering rare ray of hope!
Wake us from this illusion,
Our favorite accepted delusion.
During these moments of festival,
when we are compelled - To bow down and be pious,
Pretending to bask in your glory,
while recounting your true eternal story -
Come out and show us a sign,
Ring a bell in our deaf ears,
for those years of creation and manifestation
shall not flush into darkness and extinction.
Father! I pray to Thee - to set us free!
Send The Prophet; to us;
May the harbinger bring to us;
the one true message you want us to
bask in; for now; and for time immemorial -
this festive, awaken us, oh heavenly Father;
deliver on to us, thy true message of Love!
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| Eid Mubarak! Courtesy - Cheena * * * [About]
Coming of age, a disillusioned youth goes to his innocent past and questions the "teaching" of his religion.
Religion and all the belief system surrounding it - festivals included - are human invented devices to interpret and understand the infinite Love of the cosmic universe within the boundaries of our imagination.
But have we truly understood what we openly preach and believe with such unshakable belief?
Do we really understand our Gods, the rituals, the sacred mantras, the fancy dogma and all the hidden symbols and rules,
or do we simply consummate the inner power and empower ourselves with judgmental wrath and spit it out blatantly on our brothers at the behest of religion?
Think!
This festive, let us all wake from this deep slumber to embrace the blinding white light of effervescing universal Love!
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