By the time you understand this advice it’ll be too late.
Material realms manifest without memory; everything happens
without knowledge or lore. In life you only move, falling
off the cliff’s edge to unbecome, forgotten
every moment by space and solidness. But spirit forgets
nothing, not you, kings and gods, not trees, rivers and rocks.
In spirit nothing happens but everything is,
as still as stone and just as sure
— or surer, still remembered when all is dust.
Lingering behind the crevices of my mind,
away from the reality of time
beyond these pillars carved in lime
yelling silently through deafening chimes;
Ringing bells to sealed doors,
inside infinitely narrated lore,
neath the hunger and chaos that pour
through the endless blood-stained shores,
here I sleep; In calm mystique.
By: Viraj Belgaonkar