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Holy River

Poetry By: aruntp
Poetry



“Holy river” is a philosophically and psychologically sewed poem that has numerous roots crawled beyond thoughts, where thought can only evoke its meaning through nourishing knowledge extracted from the real form of self. These characters, words, lines in the poem should be digged with sharp tools of mind inorder to get the extract of real metaphysical questions lying deep inside the darkness.


Submitted:Mar 16, 2009    Reads: 100    Comments: 1    Likes: 1   


Oh mind! Is the body inside or outside mind?

The air we breathe inside or outside?

The senses prevail inside or outside?

The weather forms inside or outside?

The emotions exist inside or outside?

The feelings we experience inside or outside?

The tastes we enjoy exist inside or outside?

The relationships we build exist inside or outside?

The beliefs we create exist inside or outside?

The fear we fear exists inside or outside?

The myths and legends exist inside or outside?

The world we live exists inside or outside?

The Time we sense exists inside or outside?

The Space we experience exists inside or outside?

What is Birth? Oh mind! Whether it exists inside or outside?

What is living? Oh mind! Whether it exists inside or outside?

What is Death? Oh mind! Whether it exists inside or outside?

What is life? Oh mind! Whether it exists inside or outside?

Oh mind! I say nothing exists here, in space or time ever;

Ever it exists or not exist, never, just an illusion;

Oh Mind! I saw nothing as birth, life or death on this plane!

Oh! Mind! I know! You only exist here for the time being!

Crawling and crawling like a giant serpent through the path of five elements that never exists;

Towards depth of pitch darkness in a hurry, illusionized as reality;

This world, never or ever exists, and is nonrealistic without you;

Like crores and crores or realities exists in nonrealistic plane;

You bloom once and fade away once;

Through the path of holy river that flow in all directions, from the depth of your soul;

No one saw soul, searching everywhere seeing like a mirage;

The fools rushed behind it, in a hurry and greed;

The soul is self, and the crores of mind is a mirror that blooms and fade;

Day by day, in the river of holy water; like a dream that never exists.





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