P-3, Samij Datta, 2012
Time that Unfolds in the Sacred Destiny of Existence
Consciousness-Analogue
Birds are chirping in the skies
Leaves of Tibet are turning into green yellow and golden flakes
They formed a triangular mass of a unique dimension
That has portable space-hen ship-time in its memory card
We are coming from beyond over the boundary to conquer life
And establish the new race on earth
Oh beautiful South China seas in the Amazon of the Ganges
Is there a definite significance of a time-line in the taste of immortality?
Is there a riddle that we are trying to unlock?
Or is it the new moon of the dark graviton in the micro-Lilith hibiscus of ryto-blomin 
Capital-stock pilgrims to the temple of the sun are carried on her Haphaestus wings
Man is not a soldier but a dreamer of wars in a field of glory
But the fountain of light promised words instead of guns
But, the man, then is a medicine Buddha like Hippocrates dreaming of images that heal body & mind
He painted the old frescoes in every church, temple, mosque and monastery
He was an architect building monuments, towers and game-resorts
He was the child of infancy riding the white horse with apostolic angels and bodhisattvas
He was as an Argonaut of the Golden Fleece piloting explorations into unreachable destinies of the divine matrix
Yaya-chakra-chintamani-yaya
But thinking didn’t make him a man but his actions did
He was in pursuit of his Will that was the source of all his power
He composed the Eudaimonic operas to reconcile the truth between the living and the dead
And when he found himself alone in this world
Like a tiny speck of sand among the wind in the reeds
Like a subatomic quasar in the quantum hyper-reality of retrocausal silence
He cried like a baby sitting over the bank plucking grass ambassadors of the morning light
Meanwhile, the river went on its usual way:
“Aruk semat erativ Erasmus
Texondo morpa voitrana nui dhip
Child let it grow…let it blossom
And in the annual festival at the Changmo dance
Colours danced to the beat of a wave in the wavicle of its infinity
And as time closed the gaps between sun-width mud-length of a lake
An inner voice of freedom came outside
The rule ate the law in the grape-moun version of the anti-matter run
And gave acres of alblackica free space to the child to recompose
Till he became the man he is who found the paradise.
- Joy Roy Choudhury
Ref: Picture (R): The Lotus Born Babe, Padmasambhava (Source: Wikipedia, Hemis Monastery.
Nilanjan Chatterjee
/ May 10, 2012Creation is a Matrix.
[CREATION = MATRIX = 85]
Destiny is Zeroing towards us!
tuli
/ May 10, 2012The Lotus Born Babe speaks volumes.