The Seer

Part I — Poem

The millennial night of the Aryan lands
Turning her riches like the desert sands.
Her temple spires were toppled to ruin
As her thinking heads that never would begin
The high strain of inspired abstract thought
Or the craft of sculpture and music’s art.
The ravaging hordes of crescented demi-urge
Arrived in waves like a ruinous surge.
A brief respite irrupted from the Mahrattas,
A flame of Shiva that yet burns in all hearts.
In this dim time a field of glimmer shone
In the lands to the East with Bengal for home.
Sons and daughters forged by a grim smith
Fuelled by the furies fused ore and pith.
Mind and life they mounted with ceaseless step
Assiduously stooped for their kin to haul up.
Here Ganges’ long journey ended at Kali’s feet
That first crashed on Shiva’s head from heaven descent.
Where Ganges met the ocean’s wide embrace
An ancient city marshalled the best of her race.
Here commenced some fifteen score years ago
In a human birth the bringer of our tomorrow.
Of all the fires that were assiduously forged
This one was steady, silent with a tinge of gold.
In the gilded cage of a shackled age
Like Krishna he grew in hostile bondage.
No miracles attended him save an ardent will
And of word and speech and inspired skill.
None could see the mighty Hand behind
To that Impeller then he too was blind.
Then commenced the session of mighty silence
In meditative air the poise of Yogin serene.
In three days the curve finished of hard discipline
Which heaped effort of many lives could hardly incline.
His gaze that looked on all as others
Saw many worlds and intents at a glance.
He lived, thought and acted at junction of worlds
Conducted their efforts, routed them by gestures.

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I Have Been

The Seer