Dreams of a Yogi

 

And every time you close your eyes,

The caps of ice you see,

Above them all, a pair of wings

That glide in liberty

 

Pinnacles laden, frozen snow

Breath of a million years,

In nirvana now, no cosmic bliss

Not even earthly tears

 

These are the realms of the higher gods

Neelkantha and his kins,

This then where it always ends

This, where it begins

 

As if, the peaks are doorkeepers

To the silence that we seek,

They are the dreams that we covet

When our worlds turn dismal, bleak

 

If you have ever stepped therein

Your journey’s long begun,

You’ll see them every morning, night

At every round and turn

 

Until one day, when you get to see

Through the sacral inward eye,

You will start to doubt the truth of life,

The deceit that is to die

 

Then you’ll wonder, once again

If the mountains are a dream,

Or they are the truth, and the cityscapes

Are not all what they seem

 

The glimpses that you always stole

Were reality, brooding deep

Everything else, a makeshift stage,

To make us laugh and weep

 

That day, you’ll smile in blissful joy

The mountains played their part,

That day, you turn a Yogi whose

Dreams don’t end or start…

 

21^st September, 2024