Trees bleeding

Rasa Ravi, 2022

We are false worshippers if we enshrine the idea
that our freedom is our god, held in highest esteem,
—a luxurious prison for the subtlest identity—
a logically well-designed belief-scheme.

In fact, we are starving in our own dungeon
pampering our I-ness in the wilderness of our mind.
With self-centered teachings we build a support-base
which glorifies the achievements of the self-indulgent kind.

But even if we dethrone the creator of this world,
we are still starving, our calm is still unknown,
our knowledge is superficial, mirroring just ourselves.
In the highest cosmic tower we are still alone.

There is no escape until we look up, not down
where our deeds and orations with ballads are greeted.
Where the beyond begins, there only one boat goes:
worship—where self-identity is wholly depleted.

Run-up greatly and keep that momentum in itself,
let it embark in the boat alone, without you.
You must leave behind yourself, your constructs,
to the very last drop of consciousness-dew.

The tower-keepers never speak of revering the Divine
because it would burst their advaita-bubble,
the self is afraid of giving up its kingship,
so they belittle worship to avoid facing trouble.

More than often the first stage is confused for the last,
a sincere heart is overloaded with cogitative thinking,
and divine Love is tainted, reduced to mere emotions.
Where there is no worship—in sadness trees bleeding.