Get Even More Visitors To Your Blog, Upgrade To A Business Listing >>

The Song of the Poppadum



The Song of the Poppadum


No need about the world to roamAnd suffer from depression;
Make poppadum within the homeAccording to the lessonOf 'Thou art That',
without compare,The Unique Word, unspoken'Tis not by speech it will declare.
The silence is unbrokenOf Him who is the Adept-Sage,
The great Apotheosis,With His eternal heritageThat Being-Wisdom-Bliss is.
Make poppadum and after making fry,Eat, so your cravings you may satisfy.
The grain which is the black gram's yield,The so-called self or ego,
Grown in the body's fertile fieldOf five-fold sheaths, put into
The roller-mill made out of stone,Which is the search for Wisdom,The 'Who am I?'.
'Tis thus aloneThe Self will gain its freedom.
This must be crushed to finest dustAnd ground up into fragments
As being the non-self, so mustWe shatter our attachments.
Make poppadum and after making fry,Eat, so your cravings you may satisfy.
Mix the juice of square-stemmed vine,This associationWith Holy Men.
With this combineWithin the preparationSome cummin-seed of mind-control
And pepper for restrainingThe wayward senses, with them rollThat salt which is remainingIndifferent to the world we see,With condiment of leanings
Towards a virtuous unity.These are their different meanings.
Make poppadum and after making fry,Eat, so your cravings you may satisfy.
The mixture into dough now blendAnd on the stone then place it
Of mind, by tendencies hardened,And without ceasing baste it
With heavy strokes of the 'I-I'Delivered with the pestleOf introverted mind.
SlowlyThe mind will cease to wrestle.Then roll out with the pin of peace
Upon the slab of Brahman.Continue effort without ceaseWith energetic élan.
Make poppadum and after making fry,Eat, so your cravings you may satisfy.
The poppadum or soul's now fitTo put into the fry-pan,
The one infinite symbol itOf the great Silence, which can
Be first prepared by putting inSome clarified fresh butterOf the Supreme.
And now beginTo heat it till it sputter,On Wisdom's self-effulgent flameFry poppadum, 'I', as That.Enjoying all alone the same;Which bliss we ever aim at.
Make poppadum of self and after eat;Of Perfect Peace then you will be replete.




This post first appeared on Postagee, please read the originial post: here

Share the post

The Song of the Poppadum

×

Subscribe to Postagee

Get updates delivered right to your inbox!

Thank you for your subscription

×