The Sole Witness

Before the deliriumed whirls
Of spiraling nebulae,
Even before the Rita was born,
I was there, Sat,
the beginning less.

The One without a second,
The formless first,
The unmanifest-manifest,
The overseeing immanent.

The swirling chaos,
churning the deep,
on couch of eternity ever awake,
The Order-will presiding over all.

The Hiranyagarbha,
the fecund egg of egg,
the seed of luminous life
in void of space eternal
wombing multi-verses innumerable
in gloomy gaping abyss of infinity.

Spring-eyed cosmoses dig out
from nebulous vacuity of black holes,
a mirage-like running with thirsty pursuer
holding firmly the sky-wide divining pole.

In celebration
of the miracle of creation,
each planet and star I set
at fixed points in musical scale
for eternal orchestra to begin.

In flashes of self-emanating effulgence I see
explosion of a million billion crackers burst
on dark etheric canvas of shore less sky.

The silvered sheen of space
punctured at places shows up
on eternity’s chequer board,
the mosaic in black and white,
gold and silver interspersed.

Materialize racing skies,
one above the other,
in vortexed passivity:
the whirling salvers of lamps
stirred to creativity turns
phallic darkness of galactic aeons
into one alphabeted time.

The sole witness
to eerie happenings in cosmic deep,
a million billion cosmoses expand
in all directions in infinity of space.

In vain this continuous vigil:
the efforts to deconstruct
space-time continuum,
the galactic mystery.
All computation of robotic intelligence
end up in zeroed void.

However fast we run
not an inch away shall we move
from our preset position,
for everyone too is running
with same velocity, in same direction.

How real this illusion of relativity!
So difficult to crack this puzzle!

How may we get over this condition,
where all players have their own version
from their place in cosmic ring?

Why then should we fight when all are equally right
like stars twinkling by the self-same light?
(Yayati)