All Shall Yield

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All Shall Yield

A Poem

The Mother

Once by a humdrum moment of a working day,
I mused that to my Master I must pray.
Seated and composed, I marshalled my petty parts,
To quietly sneak upon the Infinite employing all arts!

My dullard mind grew instantly brilliant, 
Mused over a hundred trivialities keenly intent!
My vital seemed tepid and unusually placid, 
Breathe flowed in rhythm to prana’s method.

And then the foe, a searing pain, that froze 
The seat of love. Physical in panic to its seeming close.
All being murmured, ‘This thy end, unless thou worship science!’
In reply I said, ‘If thus it is, it is, but I yield not to this foe’

The moments piled, the pain grew, a cry was born,
Wordless, yet said, ‘O my Master, thou and thou alone’.
Was this the Nachiketa hour, one might have wondered,
Will the Lord of Dharma my accounts of merit demand?

In that lone last moment of unknown dread in time,
Arrived the Mother as an imperial Force sublime.
No words were there, nor a battle cry. 
Too swift Her action for falsehood an alternate to try.

A single swoop of force effaced all pain,
And the body’s learnt frailties since time began.
What could a Mahisha or Raktabija ever do,
Against She who heeds every call that is true?!

All being fell silent, all parts in obeisance, 
For here was She, the One beyond science!
Then something did rise from the foundation, 
To meet Her who was our eternal destination.

This seemed not the coiled serpent of lore
For all being trailed it, mind and vital and every pore!
Upwards it soared as an Eagle in an endless sky
What expanses lay within this being paltry?!

The eye of my eye, the watcher true reached,
The occult boundary below my skull now revealed. 
The Veil, thin as a spider’s web, a step more,
And all would be infinite and free evermore.

The watcher paused, gazing at the shimmer beyond,
There were no tears, or arms in plea upturned.
Only a silent aspiration to do His will here below,
And be a brook for His light and knowledge to flow.

My being and becomings are now scripted by Her,
Through storm and abyss I carry Her fire.
No daemon shall halt my progress or tarry
For all shall yield to Her and her august majesty.

Note: Offered to the Divine Mother, on Day 3 of Navaratri 2019, by Kali’s Brood and Murli R.