Of all created You are dearly prized,
Hey Lord and Master mine.
You exist in fire and wind;
Circling all You have been.
Only You are everybody's source.
In hidden fashion lone are You;
The multitudes You dwell amid.
In heaven and hell with quirks You're infused at birth,
Oh the Inner Spirit of everyone.
People think: "I achieve;
I achieve, with family."
But I am Yours, oh the Foot-dust Thief;[1]
This "I" is a bubble of Your compassion.
Sarkarverse article
Audio recording
Sunday, October 6, 2024
In me are You...
Saturday, October 5, 2024
What's the prize?
Toward an emptiness in the heavens having drifted,
Nymphs Celestial, to which realm do they proceed?
A tune emitted in the mental room bejeweled,
Why does it give a swing?
Floats she upon which longing,
Who knows at Whose beckoning?
What effulgence did she crave?
Whose heart does she want to please?
Oh Who is that Beloved of remote place,
Enticing although very far away?
This same Earth, an ambrosial drink,
Having gone to receive, Himself He goes missing.
Why does He not summon from proximate?
Why has He remained very distant?
Faraway Darling, into heart please take
The gemmed casket of my psyche.
Sarkarverse article
Audio recording
If You please
Suffusing sound, touch, form, and flavor You are present;
In the mental bud Thou art my honey.
Whether known or not, You have kept abreast;
Of all my wealth You are the totality.
In summer's sultry air-stream unbearable,
Like a cooling fountain You stay ever with.
On the mud-stained path, not rain-saturated,
In the goal of motion are You, like the Goddess Shashti.[1]
At Your will is knowing or not knowing Thee.
If You wish I will know; if not, You'll stay a mystery.
Pleasing You is the essence of my practice holy;
With that vow I'm praying for Your mercy.
Sarkarverse article
Audio recording
Friday, October 4, 2024
Nourished perfectly for endurance
The lotus that had bloomed in pond is effusive;
On a morning's wind its fragrance comes floating.
That can't be seen externally, only upon thinking painted;
In the universe sparse it stays, blossomed amid psyche.
Always bright, eyes trained on the sun;
Ever-wakeful it remains, solar rays linked up.
With stem stuck in the mud, it is not smirched.
To smile in delight it bides; from taste of Game is lively.
This psychic lake of mine, it does not evaporate;
Having been fed by frost, in summer also it prevails.
Upon the waves lachrymose, by love it is illuminated,
Age after age and later, free from impurity.
Sarkarverse article
Audio recording
Thursday, October 3, 2024
Somehow there's ignition
The spark of fire on the earth that You've spread,
In its own way it moves ahead.
The flame is both in form and formless,
World-filling, ever like a rocking cradle.
That life-force also, none can quench;
That technique nobody can comprehend.
At core of its existence is Your kindness,
At all times and in every manner.
Alone how do You go on making so much sport?
Upon any hazard or obstacle You continue without pause.
Taking for Yourself a mortal poison, You disburse ambrosia;
So bowing to Your name are all in the universe.
Sarkarverse article
Audio recording
Tuesday, October 1, 2024
His song sublime
The boat of song goes a-sailing;
It sails on, it goes on sailing.
It comes from which river-shore;
It speeds toward which sea?
To mortal realm ambrosia's wares it has brought;
Upon Earth a heavenly sweetness it has poured.
By rhythm and beat the cosmos has been stuffed
With a name-unknown meaning.
It has told many anecdotes from days of yore;
It has driven wild with melody's strong emotion.
Those with perturbed psyche, stone-struck,
On a veena's jingle become giddy.
Sarkarverse article
Audio recording
Monday, September 30, 2024
Unimaginable grace
Lord, never missing do You go;
By my own defect Yourself I don't see.
With black cloth eyes having covered,
I invite the gloom of stupidity.
The light You ignite, with clouds I blanket;
Calling through rifts in the mist You persist.
I deposit lampblack amid that luster;
With that same cosmetic, unseen You adorn me.
The flowers You attire, like insect I trim;
You are a line gilded, I am death's matchstick.
On Your golden shore I am the sandy grit;
With that soil a green earth You go on making.
Sarkarverse article
Audio recording