Arpan’a’

The best advice is:
that there’s no advice.

Life is not “advise-able”;
it is not subject to advising
- it just is, without discussing.

I am responsible,
am I not
- a good girl
who can’t even
get angry and cry
without feeling guilty
about it,
explain herself away
and shut up,
as if she has changed
her mind.

Tell me:
is that really good?
Can I reall reach
a peak or a bottom
that way?
Or I’ll forever
stay mediocre,
stuck somewhere “midway”?

When I’m like this
nothing is good enough
- neither the blue sky
nor the shining sun;
the tree is not pretty
and the chirping birds
are truly annoying
- nothing, nothing
satisfies my agony
and self-pity.

I’m obstinate – I am:
I want You here and now,
and again…
and hate,
just hate this pain.

Sometimes love
is not possible
or it is not enough
- I’m not soft and pliable:
I am rough and tough.

And I scream and I shout
- internally,
so nobody knows –
that You are mean,
and I am stupid,
and it isn’t fair
that it isn’t fair
to grumble about loneliness
yet fail to remove its cause…

From egotistical certainty,

through humbled uncertainty,

to the Truth beyond
every mood and thought.

Whatever little I gain
has to be sacrificed
again and again.

My joy and my sorrow,
my virtue and my vice
has to become all Yours.

And when the receiver
and the giver in me dissolves
I’ll be one with the Goal and the Source.

My biggest fear
is that I’d lose You.
Not: The One Who Is Eternal
And Can’t Be Lost,
but the One “over here”:
the Guest of my mind and heart
and not yet
their Permanent Host.

I’m afraid of a lonely life
- and my cruelty and selfishness
that would torture me even more
and destroy everyone -
without even a little bit
of That love.

No, I wouldn’t “do” living
without You
-whoever and whatever that “You” is -
so don’t let it happen,
please, please, please…

And, then, may “my You”
grow into the True One
so that in Your false name
I still don’t unrighteously
torture and destroy
me and everyone.

Should I be sorry
for my foolishness and forgetfulness
or angry
about Your delays?

I know I am not ready
and maybe not deserving
of Your presence,
still:
what happened to Your Mercy
at least
for the undeserving one’s Essence?

Oh, please,
don’t wait for me
- maybe
I’ll never be “ready”.
Just save me from myself,
like before
- that much I’m still able
to be aware of
and wish for…

I hope that even such
roundabout humility
counts,
at least a little,
if not much?

Oh, I know
I don’t only apologize
- I am also sorry for myself
and merely demand.
What else to do?
Scream for help,
or just: drown?!

I don’t know
how to be polite
and simply wait
- I panic
and I’m rude
and can’t be content.

You know me very well
- You’ve made me,
haven’t You,
like that.
So, come, I beg,
forgive me
and forget.

May all my
“defects and mistakes”
disappear forever
and may I become
a clean slate permanently
- I wouldn’t mind
to be plain and uninteresting
unquestioningly.

I’d like,
oh, I’d love
to stop longing
and rest in Your arms:
free from
any wondering and wandering,
dying or living forever
in Your eyes.

I miss You
and I want You
like crazy.

Running away
and running around,
lost and confused
and stressed out,
still I hunt Your trail
and hope to find
You on mine.

If I say:
“You are here,”
thousands of times
- will You come?

… And show me
that “here” or “there”
- everywhere! -
You simply are.

(a tribute to Madhumita’s “Om Namah Shivaya” on Youtube)

The Fountain of Love
bursts in my heart
and I’m overcome:
in Its flood
of sorrow and joy
You have come.

Is it my love
or is it Yours?
I don’t know
- I know nothing at all…
It seems You’re my heart
and its throb.

The hairs stand
on their ends
and tears stream
like rivulets…
for You, to You,
by Your exquisite Grace…