Lies of a Cosmic Saint

Sometimes few moments,
Leave us
Still.
 
So still, that there seems no reason
Or purpose
To move. Being still becomes
Our truth. The truth, we always want
To be with.
 
That truth, with which,
We create such eternal thread,
That it leaves us even more
Vulnerable to stillness, and we
Keep on being it.
 
Stillness is not peace,
It is neither being calm.
Stillness is extreme turmoil,
Chaos in an orderly fashion.
 
Stillness is silence
Of the eye
Before it becomes a storm’s
Child.
Stillness is what makes us
Strong, builds us
For the chaos of higher order.
 
Stillness is the moment,
When we choose from fire
And ice.
It is the decisive epoch
Of our atomic life span.
 
Stillness is the wandering dream
Of a shooting star,
 
The anger of the cosmic saint,
The lie that prevails
And feeds the cosmos.
Stillness is nothingness.
 
It is becoming whole
While breaking bit by bit.
To be it,
One has to be it,
Not embrace it,
Not possess it,
Never find it,
But be it.
 
To be still
Is to move,
It is just the paradigm
Magnified to infinitesimal
Niche of the time.
 
When those moments arrive,
And stillness takes over,
A seeker can find
All five horizons.
 
To be still is to drown
In passion, not just float
In the oceans of time.
To be still is to leave
The very paradigm
Of space-time continuum.
 
All concepts, those bind us
With time and space,
Break in the pieces,
Independent of space-time
Based derivatives and equations.
 
Some new variables come into play,
A new chaos,
And simultaneously, a new order.
That being said,
Meeting you was such a moment for me,
A moment of stillness!

 

– Chandra Prakash Verma

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