Time that Unfolds in the Sacred Destiny of Existence: The Will-Factor in Spiritual-Vowen-Supratohentim-Supramental


P-3, Samij Datta, 2012

Time that Unfolds in the Sacred Destiny of Existence


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


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.