Mystic Signs—an Invitation to Life Divine

Mystic Signs—an Invitation to Life Divine

The Secret Science of Divining

(i)

Come with me, I shall reveal
the secret of divining
our ancestors knew.

I shall take you to the hallowed spots
where stand pyramids and astrofields
to show you the rim of the cosmic orb
where existed an observatory for all space.

These hieroglyphs tell of a lost civilization
of those who could commune through signs,
masters of geometric anagrams and schemes.

No thinking pigmies
like the jet-set, computer-brained, robots,
no automatons sans feeling or emotion,
who worship only the machine.

The aborigines possess to this day
the knowledge of invisible paths;
locked in their secret science
the treasury of ancient wisdom.

 

No unfeeling savages
but visionary beings
who knew where to build
the great pyramids.

 

Who knew the unified field
of quadrangles and triangles
that form the invisible grid
encircling the globe.

 

Who knew well the movements
of prevailing winds,
of cosmo-oceanic currents,
of hidden forces of the cosmos.

 

Who knew the spots of magnetic power
to locate the precise spots
for the countless megalithic structures
to predict the rising and setting of the sun;
made the magnetic field retain the sunstones
in the ordained positions.

 

Who had the ability to commune
with beings from far-off constellations
we are still struggling to find.

 

Many a mysterious sign on the ground
be it a bridge over the sea
or an airfield
or the markings of Nasca-
tell of the intelligence
behind the perfect architectural plan
of astroports
for visitors from outer space
to land to consummate
an unknown mission.

 

The mystery of Ande lines too
points to the invisible hand
of the unknown denizens
from far-aff galaxies.

 

(ii)

 

Ancient men possessed
the unerring intuition
to locate the spots
for their minarets and pagodas,
their circles and parabolas.

 

They had the innate ability
to catch supranatural frequencies
a power modern man has lost.
Sensate values have taken a toll
a sure sign of man’s fall.

 

Knew that from coarse erotica
to archetypal myths,
from  racial memory-roots of aborigines
to the consciousness of superman,
dreams span the legendary lore.

 

We sleep to dream,
we dream to sleep
till we are shaken
by a knock at the door.

 

We shuttle from bliss to horror
breaking the sequence of space-time,
hourly undergo a sea change.

 

We leave the corporeal frame
to travel by the astral pathways.
After a spell of relaxation,
go to sleep again.

 

Many a time have I dreamt
in a wakeful state,
seen and thought three-dimensionally,
oblivious of my fourth dimension,
the basis of all creativity
that guides the artist’s insight,
lets him see the hidden beauty
in the darkest night.

 

Sleep is a relaxation
a state of receptive passivity,
for paranormal communication,
for entering a trance.

 

I climb the chestnut,
become the tree,
stand with my peers,
proud of my ancestry.

 

Oblivious of the hallowed past
that gave meaning to my thoughts,
beneath the banyan I lie.
My roots go back in time,
I recollect each one
who stood there.

 

I become the wood,
bound to every one ,
stretching my arms in every direction.

 

I understand the heart
of cyclones and storms,
of creativity and creation,
in my soul’s calm.

 

Travel from trunk downards
far away in space-time,
in my crystal costume
I become all that I see.

 

Breathing the air of new skies
hopping from sphere to sphere,
buffeted by electromagnetic waves,
I cross
many a sound barrier,
many a starlit dome,
winging from the earthly roof
to my celestial home.

 

there I meet my father,
my father’s father
and onto the Father.

 

In His lap I rest a while
to take my place with the pole-star
to guide the stranded.

 

Go back home
to know the source
I strayed from
to live my mortal destiny.

 

(v)
In my trances,
in nine circles of the moon
I unrolled the scroll
of my previous lives.

 

I re-lived the crucial roles
of my previous births,
having a bearing on my present,
as if I were acting in a film.

 

Till my thirties I was a witness
to disjointed episodes
from my previous lives
reflected on a screen.

 

Suddenly, in early thirties,
a strange dispassion entered my being:
I started shunning all men
retreating to lonely spots
for meditations deep and long
till I was summoned to shirdi
by a celestial call.

 

There I met  a realized soul
who transferred the yogic powers
to create and uncreate at will,
to see beyond space-time,
to commune with spirits divine,
to hear the first sermons
of ancient saints and divines
in their original tongues.

 

My precognition in that state
was marked by precision,
my prophecies were fulfilled,
I was the star of the great.

 

I heard  Christ’s golden sermon
in his own sonorous voice
in a language alien to my ear;
its music haunts.

 

I was roused
from the sleep of ignorance
to tread the seeker’s path
played in my previous births.

 

Dattatreya and Sai
Gurcharan and Golak
Zen patriarchs and Babaji
wrapped in effulgence,
entered my inmost being;
I was filled with translucent light.

 

They awakened me to my mission,
conferred the mystic sight
to bear the godly light,
to carry the cross of human woes.

 

From the meshes of worldliness freed,
longing to walk by His light
making it burn into a steady slame,
in my dark cavern I dwell.

 

Hear the call
to join my voice
to the choir of God.

 

I sing of the faith,
of the earth as one family,
of unity permeating all,
of  service as love made visible:
the destination of every man,
of soul’s deliverance,
of its merger with the One,
the source supreme.

 

(vi)

 

Ecstasy is a gateway to eternal
from the void of oblivion
to eternities of memory.
It is an invitation
to life divine.

 

The sages of yore
who sing philosophies to redeem,
prophet, poet and philosopher, rolled in one,
to them I look for inspiration.

 

Science has to be a hymn to the Creator,
no more a preserve of godless men
or it will become a device
heaping untold miseries upon men.

 

Reason and spirit interacting mould
the force of personality
that ordains the route mankind will take
when the spirit is caught in a fix.

 

” To be or not be” is not a question
confined to a mythical person
but the haunting obsession of every epoch
in search of a breakthrough.

 

No forecast is possible in reverse,
neither about the past nor the future.
History is a graveyard of all prophecies,
of all ” ifs” and ” buts”.

 

Spirituality is the last retreat
for science and religion to meet;
when clash of creeds alarms,
realization has to drawn.

 

The savage and the scientist share
the same substratum of intelligence,
the same gene,
yet in the chain of natural progression
savage remains the archetypal man.

 

Psychokinesis and clairvoyance
belong to every man
in psychic reservoir locked.

 

What you need is the right intelligence
to attune yourself
to the unified field
of human awareness,
encircling the universe,
hissing for recognition.

 

I travelled to distant lands,
unknown to my physical mind,
in contemplation firm-fixed
yet moving faster than light.

 

A mental falcon following,
retaining the memory of things I see,
of the sights and sounds
that lapped around me;
reviving the ability or remote -seeing,
natural to every one.

 

I have experienced levitation,
materialized out of thin air
sultanas and sacred ash.
Also, solid balls out of nothing,
and let them fall to the ground
without bouncing or making a sound.
Twisted metal spans and knives,
made eerie signs.
Pulled out fires from the walls,
saw flowerpots hanging in midair,
automatic writing on a clean slate,
a shadowy presence in the room.

 

(vii)

 

What we do in this life
determines what we gain
in the next.

 

Good or evil we do
forsakes us not
on our journey to the unknown,
neither in the course of flight
nor on reaching the destination.

 

What we are, we shall be,
all determined by our deeds.
The universe is not a game of dice
but a mathematical paradigm.

 

Each and every step of the design
squares well with the pattern of the theorem.
Everything depends on our actions.
Karma and reincarnations
monitor the cosmic mechanism.

 

Cryptompesia explains
the truth of transmigration,
our turning away from the sun,
our striving for salvation,
an integral aspects of total organism
that inheres in the cosmic unconscious:
the extension of microcosmic self.

 

We cannot explain
the totality of the human person
by physio-neurology alone,
the truth lies in prenatal existence.

 

Many a time
meeting a person,
passing through a situation,
or reading some piece,
the sensation of ” already seen”
haunts us
as if our double had been to the place
and had met the person.

 

(viii)

 

Stuck by weightlessness
I levitate in space in a state of trance.

 

In my upward glide swill,
turning in air itself,
into the tunnel,
cross the little  hill,
to arrive where my father sleeps.

 

I too shall sleep there
after I shuffle off my worn-out coil,
cut the umbilical cord that joins
the causal to the mental-physical sheath,
all over the globe to fly.

 

I follow the music,
cross the astral paths,
the sun and the moon,
cross the river of mortality
needling my way through invisible tunnels,
through inaccessible mountain passes
dotted by sunspots and black shadows,
well-marked by ethereal poles.

 

Out-of-the-body experience is not the same
as the fact of being out of the body
but an altered state of consciousness.

 

(ix)

 

The spirit never dies,
in various incarnations it survives
drinking the bliss sip by sip
till we attain nirvana.

 

I know reincarnation to be a fact
fro sage Bhrigu unfolds the scroll
of my previous births
spanning many aeons.

In one birth I was King Yayati,
the ancestor of the solar race.
I carry with me Brighu’s curse
for my infidelity
to Devayani,
daughter of the mighty sage.

She cried
for restoration of her conjugal rights,
for her son’s succession to the throne,
brought upon my head
decrepitude too soon
and a straw bed.

Twenty-nine births from the present one
I was the sage Madan
and lived
in the Hemkund mountains
absorbed in Sat Chit Anand.

In my last birth
was I a scholar-saint
honoured by courts and kings.

In this life reborn to the one
who was no God-man
but true man of God,
free from the taint of worldliness.
The Jiwan Mukta, by Brighu proclaimed,
the liberated while living
and not to be born again.

Father bade me stop
the out-of-body journeys
to confine myself
to ordained duties and affections,
to quicken the liberation of man,
to imbibe earth consciousness,
to make earth-citizens,
to re-live the religion of man.

Father touched me by chance,
instantly I went into a trance:
neither a sleep nor a dream was it
but the light of bliss.

Through many a secret pathway
I travelled to unreachable realms
shortening distances
of many million light years.

Suddenly I see something flicker
with a pair of eye-glasses
in a far-off gloom,
my sense of discernment returns.

I retrace my steps ;
a black dog,
tucking at my knees,
coaxes me home.

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