The Word
The following poem on The Word presents an artist's perception of the birth of Anhata Naad, the Primordial Sound. Interestingly enough, it was published in the Journal of English Literary Club of the Department of English, University of Peshawar, Pakistan.
Out of the silent womb of infinityIt fell, the WordInto the gaping oyster-lips of ManAnd he afire with Wisdom SupremeSang out in reverential chantAum, Amen and Ameen
There came then the Night of the SoulThe fire within was utterly lostIn columns of pitch dark smoke andMan dwarfed strove to confrontAum with Amen and Ameen
The Bright Dawn knocks again atThe door of mortal existence
Look!The birds, the beasts and the plantsAnd even this mute insensate earthSing glories of the fructifying Word Why then should you, o slothful manSoil yourself in the mire of Ignorance
Cast off the veil!Let Anger, Greed, and phantom LustSlither down like a screeAnd rebaptised in the Spirit of TruthBehold the Beauty of the Word. (My other poems can be accessed at http://www.ravikdhar.in/poetrysection.html)
Out of the silent womb of infinityIt fell, the WordInto the gaping oyster-lips of ManAnd he afire with Wisdom SupremeSang out in reverential chantAum, Amen and Ameen
There came then the Night of the SoulThe fire within was utterly lostIn columns of pitch dark smoke andMan dwarfed strove to confrontAum with Amen and Ameen
The Bright Dawn knocks again atThe door of mortal existence
Look!The birds, the beasts and the plantsAnd even this mute insensate earthSing glories of the fructifying Word Why then should you, o slothful manSoil yourself in the mire of Ignorance
Cast off the veil!Let Anger, Greed, and phantom LustSlither down like a screeAnd rebaptised in the Spirit of TruthBehold the Beauty of the Word. (My other poems can be accessed at http://www.ravikdhar.in/poetrysection.html)
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