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God’s Love Song


 
I willed my being into an extension
And the cosmos was born in a Bang:
Every birth is a terror and a joy,
Every creation an extension of a core.
I live, move, and have my being
In all that is, and that shall be,
Much as in the core that sits here.

Hypothesis is what the creation was
When I let myself go in a bang:
An overflow of love infinite.
Experiment is what the creation is
When I add patterns in the mosaic:
A sporting game of love unremitting.
Abel was I, much as Cain was.

I am the turbulence of the rolling waters,
The rage of blasting bombs and fleeting bullets,
The hunger in the eyes of widows and babies,
The roar of the clouds, and the grace of the rainbow.
And the nailed wail on the crucifix.
Evolution is what the creation is, of
The hell and the heaven that I am.


Afterword

I wrote the above poem about 15 years ago.  It was a time when I wrote many poems of this type: apparently religious.  Psychologically I had hit the bottom and was looking for something to cling to, “a crutch” as the person who played certain Machiavellian games in my life called it.  I even had a few dalliances with an organised religion and its magical rituals (“crutches”) hoping to find some meaning, some way out of the mess that my life had become.  It didn’t take me much time to realise that meaning in life is something that each one of us has to create even as God would have created his world.

I went through those old ‘religious’ poems of mine once again as Good Friday and Easter (magical rituals) are approaching.  I put this up here now with a smile, the smile of someone who did make an arduous journey through certain sterile paths created partly by himself and mostly by a society that is ever eager to volunteer with such assistance.
The poem is not an exposition of any philosophy or theology.  It is an expression of emotions (as are most poems), and alo an attempt to transcend certain painful emotions.  In another two days' time the Christian world will be dramatising the "nailed wail on the crucifix" in the form of certain rituals.  This blog post is my way of commemorating the same nailed wail...

#ztAhotzmNP#

Comments

  1. Nice Piece..
    I enjoyed every piece of your writings..
    Praise the lord.


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    ReplyDelete
  2. Wonderful lines! Felt like the 'Son of God' himself read these out into my ears!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks, Arnab. The lines did mean much to me in those days when they were written. And I think they do even now. Your words vindicate my thinking.

      Delete
  3. Wonderfully started and classy ending . 15 years before and posting now ?

    ReplyDelete
  4. I loved the lines and narration.
    Beauty of poems is you can change your point of view and derive new meanings from the same verses.
    Before it might give you a spiritual peace, now it will give you a more spiritual, realistic one :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Can real spirituality be real, Aram?

      Delete
    2. now that leads to many levels of loops leading to where the arguement starts :)

      Delete

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