Essays & Articles
Technology, spirituality & the synthesis of ancient wisdom
Satyakāma
At those words a rush of worlds jostled inWith their misshapen years and old dead pain,When dark fat
Satyakāma
Briefly looked she at that cherished faceShaped of her flesh and blood and fondness.She then observe
Satyakāma
Back in the years in the days of yoreIn land of Bhāratha of mystic loreWas a lad brightened by eleve
Age of Doubt
Ended the age of doubt, diminishing its dubious clout,Upon every shining thought its shadow confusio
Trooper
VoicesO trooper, trooper where goest thouIn night of alarm that horrors show.Linger by our abode shi
Gratitude
A gratitude to Thee they said I owe, by gesture or attitude to show.With what price of coin must I w
O Master
The long lonely roads of many lives I have trod,Innumerable bodies worn by works and cast aside,The
New Birth
A march of seasons crosses the soul’s terrain,A procession of climes not governed by the sun.Desert
Fortune
What is this I see in muse’s mirrorA gaunt visage fronting a quaint figure?A pittance for breath and
Obeisance
Each day I live the wide span of a human life,A new turn in the cycles of clash and strife.Each step
Opening
A progression I intuit in all Thy methodsA methodical completeness in Thy melodies.To the infant a g
O Krishna
Through the long winding ages I dwelt keen on the pages,Uttering words of the sages and their living
Twelve Labours
Of the labours I can now speak, the twelve ends we must seek;Pliant body of supple health, full-bodi
Spirit Stair
A triple-faceted gem bounded by twin immensities,Below the abysm’s deeps, above the superconsciences
Stranger
Stranger I must tarry but a moment hereFor am summoned to tasks by one most dear.My tale is long and
The Cure
Across the lands the pyres bloomed like deadly weedAnd sowed again in vulnerable minds fear’s seed.T
The Cure
In the dying throes of the Age of IronWas a desperate gamble by Falsehood begun,Armed with a malicio
O Thou
Behold this silent miracle hosted in me,Inconspicuous it probes fringes of improbability.A course of
O Sisyphus
Each day I begin again the clamber over steep incline,Emerging from dream store and long buried clam
Master of Journeys
The rivulet’s easy mirth and the damp soil of its birth,A river’s passionate roar issuing from fount