Skip to main content

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.


    Visit my blog http://blog.blogbee.in and

    Register and Promote your blog at blogbee to increase blogtraffic.

    Here is the link

    http://www.blogbee.in/index.php?option=com_users&view=registration

    Thanks & Regards
    Blogbee Team.

    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

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Adventures of Toto as a comic strip

  'The Adventures of Toto' is an amusing story by Ruskin Bond. It is prescribed as a lesson in CBSE's English course for class 9. Maggie asked her students to do a project on some of the lessons and Femi George's work is what I would like to present here. Femi converted the story into a beautiful comic strip. Her work will speak for itself and let me present it below.  Femi George Student of Carmel Public School, Vazhakulam, Kerala Similar post: The Little Girl

The Second Crucifixion

  ‘The Second Crucifixion’ is the title of the last chapter of Dominique Lapierre and Larry Collins’s magnum opus Freedom at Midnight . The sub-heading is: ‘New Delhi, 30 January 1948’. Seventy-three years ago, on that day, a great soul was shot dead by a man who was driven by the darkness of hatred. Gandhi has just completed his usual prayer session. He had recited a prayer from the Gita:                         For certain is death for the born                         and certain is birth for the dead;                         Therefore over the inevitable                         Thou shalt not grieve . At that time Narayan Apte and Vishnu Karkare were moving to Retiring Room Number 6 at the Old Delhi railway station. They walked like thieves not wishing to be noticed by anyone. The early morning’s winter fog of Delhi gave them the required wrap. They found Nathuram Godse already awake in the retiring room. The three of them sat together and finalised the plot against Gand

The Final Farewell

Book Review “ Death ends life, not a relationship ,” as Mitch Albom put it. That is why, we have so many rituals associated with death. Minakshi Dewan’s book, The Final Farewell [HarperCollins, 2023], is a well-researched book about those rituals. The book starts with an elaborate description of the Sikh rituals associated with death and cremation, before moving on to Islam, Zoroastrianism, Christianity, and finally Hinduism. After that, it’s all about the various traditions and related details of Hindu final rites. A few chapters are dedicated to the problems of widows in India, gender discrimination in the last rites, and the problem of unclaimed dead bodies. There is a chapter titled ‘Grieving Widows in Hindi Cinema’ too. Death and its rituals form an unusual theme for a book. Frankly, I don’t find the topic stimulating in any way. Obviously, I didn’t buy this book. It came to me as quite many other books do – for reasons of their own. I read the book finally, having shelv

Vultures and Religion

When vultures become extinct, why should a religion face a threat? “When the vultures died off, they stopped eating the bodies of Zoroastrians…” I was amused as I went on reading the book The Final Farewell by Minakshi Dewan. The book is about how the dead are dealt with by people of different religious persuasions. Dead people are quite useless, unless you love euphemism. Or, as they say, dead people tell no tales. In the end, we are all just stories made by people like the religious woman who wrote the epitaph for her atheist husband: “Here lies an atheist, all dressed up and no place to go.” Zoroastrianism is a religion which converts death into a sordid tale by throwing the corpses of its believers to vultures. Death makes one impure, according to that religion. Well, I always thought, and still do, that life makes one impure. I have the support of Lord Buddha on that. Life is dukkha , said the Enlightened. That is, suffering, dissatisfaction and unease. Death is liberation

Cats and Love

No less a psychologist than Freud said that the “time spent with cats is never wasted.” I find time to spend with cats precisely for that reason. They are not easy to love, particularly if they are the country variety which are not quite tameable, and mine are those. What makes my love affair with my cats special is precisely their unwillingness to befriend me. They’d rather be in their own company. “In ancient time, cats were worshipped as gods; they have not forgotten this,” Terry Pratchett says. My cats haven’t, I’m sure. Pratchett knew what he was speaking about because he loved cats which appear frequently in his works. Pratchett’s cats love independence, very unlike dogs. Dogs come when you call them; cats take a message and get back to you as and when they please. I don’t have dogs. But my brother’s dogs visit us – Maggie and me – every evening. We give them something to eat and they love that. They spend time with us after eating. My cats just go away without even a look af