Secret

There's a secret in this madness.

Everything is breath,

a toadstool Spirit-blown

like glass,

a moss-furry stone the supreme
Being because it
merely exists.

On the wing of a housefly

a thousand verses of Rig Veda,

but you need to look.

The shaggy golden shelter dog

infested with celestial messengers.

And you next inhalation the intimate name
of Lady Sophia

whose whisper only lovers know.

How does Mount Fuji float on a cloud?

How do a billion stars

rest in your open palm

like a black moth?

It happens through the science of astonishment.

The sun and planets in free-fall,

caught and held by some

colossal stillness.

Be a pilgrim, then you'll understand

this secret madness.

Let the radiance of your destination

illuminate your starting place

before you take the first step.

Let the space between

the beginning and the end

be a single exhalation.

What stands in your way

is seeking.

Polish the earth with your footsteps

like a grail,

a circle of beaten bronze.

Why is whirling like Grace?

Because you give up the journey and dance

in all directions at once.

Painting: Ananya Poddar