Teacher (January 12, Birthday of Maharishi)

When the Teacher whispered
the sound of creation
so close to your ear,
you did not receive anything.

That Light from whom
these galaxies unfolded
was already sheathed inside your breath.

That song God sang in the star womb -
each word releasing a fragrant
blade of grace, milk streams
of radiance, dark morsels of soil
glittering with sugary microbes,

planets of possibility
bubbling up from darkness, rivers,
mountains floating to the surface
in the blue inverted bowl
of emptiness,

imprisoned sunbeams in sudden snow,
rainbows smelted from wonder and air,
gray wasted moonscapes gratuitously
nippled with crocus and flowering thistle,

the ancient faces of the unborn
woven in the glow around you
like promises kept in music:

This song was always singing in your body,
one heart chamber pouring your true name
into the other.

What Shiva murmured into the rose,
sealing the lips of the goddess,
you forgot with your first exhalation.

Dearest friend, just be the listener.
It will all come back to you
in a silent tidal hum of bliss
melting your edges into light.

What really happened?
He woke what was already there.

Now dance and sing "Jai Guru Dev!"
to your Self.
That's what the Master really wants.

No comments: