Thursday, September 18, 2008
Not in their paintings.
Not in images likened to you.
Not in what they told me.
Not in what I heard from them.
Not in wisdom of the centuries.
Not in the peace of their sanctuaries.
Not in their books.
Not in their clear brooks.
Not in the air.
Never in my despair.
Not when I ascended the thousand stairs.
It was when I closed my eyes and ears
And shut their fairy tale world out.
Out came a single drop of tear
Which removed all my doubts.
It was not You who was to be found.
You were always around.
It was I who was lost
And seeking You out to heal my wound.
I had to complete the full circle
To hear my inner voice.
And You always stood smiling everywhere
Leaving me no other choice.
(The poem is inspired by my trip to the Tiger's Nest, Bhutaan.)