THE PROXEMICS OF TIME IN CONSCIOUS EVOLUTION OF KALACHAKRA MANDALA: ‘SHAMBHALA IN TWILIGHT RADIANCE OF KALPURUSHA’ (THE WORK IS THE HEART OF THE MATTER ENTERING HIGHER DIMENSIONS)

Kalachakra Mandala, courtesy of HimalayanArt.org

Kalachakra Mandala, courtesy of HimalayanArt.org

THE PROXEMICS OF TIME IN CONSCIOUS EVOLUTION OF KALACHAKRA MANDALA: ‘SHAMBHALA IN TWILIGHT RADIANCE OF KALPURUSHA’ (THE WORK IS THE HEART OF THE MATTER ENTERING HIGHER DIMENSIONS)

 

“First man stood, shifting stance
while germs of sight
unfurl’d Flags in his skull

and quickening, hair, nails, skin
turned slowly, whirl’d, in
the warm aquarium, warm
wheel turning”. 

– Jim Morrison 

‘Hay Hay Jay Jay Pralay Pay

Tay Thay Day Dhay Bandhu Nai Jay’

(Hari Hari Hari Kau) (Maha-Nam Maha-Nam)

– Prabhu Jagat Bandhu Sundor (Chandrapat: The Descent of the Moon)

Time the wheel-barrow spinning

Centre without the point originates creation

Fragrance of light cuts through the four corners

Substance, form takes shape

Justifying the journey from the star field and beyond

Into the woods that harvest the tree of life

Mother of the seven seas, island fathers and mountains

Deep beneath the corpus of time –awakening

I hear the monstrous thud of the riders gliding past

Marching on, their armour brighter than the sun

Moonlight passes by threading the halo of the image reconstruction

A silent working of nature’s force is the coming sign of the truth Absolute

Thoughts are garlanded by the pool of an unknown mysterious energy

Doorways to the electromagnetic cusp of cosmic junction

Three ways into one to get one on one

A yantra of convergence – time evolution consciousness

The Shiva tattva is the Bramha dream in the Vishnu optical twilight

A dawn of poetic symbols carrying the chalice on the horse’s head

Three ways into the one gets two less than one in Christ’s alter of crucifixion

Time is a long sequence of fractal integers meeting neither at a point

Nor it originates from any

Kalachakra in the Adi-Buddha flowering tetra-foliate diamond light

Enter shambhala exit from the conch shell of Hari

Breathe in the silence repeating itself

A measure of things called love – rasa of the free-particle drop, dance, disappear

They know the bits from qubits in fine lines symmetric coherence

Allow the Will to master the craft and be the harbinger of peace and light

Time swallows itself from the pit evoking the fountain to split Zeus’ head

And a little light set afoot tinkling like rainbow pearls

It knows its way as the fish and the bird in the wheel of time.

– Joy

 

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