(Lines written when I went to an Ashram in Mysore recently for a spiritual retreat)

Amidst Monks in ochre robes
practising spirituality…
Ethereal stillness in the air.
Silence sometimes
is not much more eerie than sound
in this island of peace
where sylvan sanctuary sets the tune…
Where people hitherto confined
to vile fooleries of the world
and wasted by the malady of its cravings;
On the tearing throes
of flux and reflux of fortunes
beset by whales of delusion
spreading fumes of impatience
find for themselves an abode of stillness
where wings of spiritual winds
soar on the higher horizon
to obviate the vast lonesomeness…
May be as little as a drop of water
on the stalk of a straw,
or a drop of this decoction of Bliss
Engulfs my whole being…..

Ravi.S.Ranganathan….. 17.8.15

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