The Lord is the Vessel of the Unmanifest-Hymn to Transform Dark Energy into Pure Consciousness and Light

Lord Jagannatha Patachitra (Orissa, India)

The Lord is the Vessel of the Unmanifest-Hymn to Transform Dark Energy into Pure Consciousness and Light

Consciousness-Analogue

There is a unitary oneness code within the vowen-supratohentim supramental

It selects the Azent mode horse-grammar cyclone

Rivers courtyards are filled with rivers and the sun is an old man ferrying boats

Everything else is silent but wakeful

Full of hope and praise for this earth and its men

Jagannatha in Alblackica worships the painting of Hurhiman

Man is man in the Brahman of Shakti

That flowers the social hymn of a common understanding

Knowledge is a virtue not a class differentiator

Rare is the intelligence fit for the cup of original ecstasy

Aquanto uhinmrang…looking through the mirror gaze of Jean-Cocteau   

I see myself in the past of its present coming from the future of time

Rocks roll as the chariot moves across pure deserts of Xan Infinity

Worship the second that bears your name so one day it may hold the cross of your destiny

Forever Love Life Light anon!

– Joy Roy Choudhury

SAVE OLIVE RIDLEY SEA TURTLES IN ORISSA

 

 

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You Need To Call Your Lord Via Deltrom-Geltrom-Protein Fibre Line to Zoom Matter As Dance

Pagan Art, Samij Datta, 2012

You Need To Call Your Lord Via Deltrom-Geltrom-Protein Fibre Line to Zoom Matter As Dance

Consciousness-Analogue

Black vowels of ancient space run the summer months

Love is a ‘jyoti’ of the night for the day

Within the triangular vertices enacting the polygonal marriage

Krishna Adi Prem Radha-Govinda Swarnam

As light diffused the darkness, the Absolute appears

Shimmering gold lines of Sri Prabhu Jagat Bandhu Sundor

Wasp and bees turn into the hermetic square of the rectangle

Their geometry of precision is the desire for their union

The lateral curve shift of the Alblackica hymn gave ‘ananda’ its true prize of noble generosity

Spring’s anointed flowers are purple ether-circles of autumn

Drops of honey are gathered in cells    

Man calls his Lord from his inmost submission to the nature

Prakitir buke proloy, proloy hate ashirvad

Phire ashi baronbar ei jal pata shishire beja bhuvone

At the heart of the stone, the symbol stands for the Apocalypse

And I return with my hands dipped in sands ‘At the Hour of the God’.