The Byronic Hero and the Rosicrucian Parable of a Dream: The Afterlight ate the Darkness

Lord Byron, Monalisa, 2012

Lord Byron, Monalisa, 2012

 

 

Lord Byron, Monalisa, 2012

 

“The smiles that win, the tints that glow,

But tell of days in goodness spent,

A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent”. – She Walks in Beauty, Lord Byron.

 

Consciousness-Analogue

Incense candles murmur gently

With every light she walks in beauty

Folded in the interim between seconds minutes and hours

Handed down by a poetic sublime

Thoughts treading faraway space

In the magnificent outer ring of the creation

The psychic persona of the man finding the limitless in a reverie

Like the growth of a flame from the pool of her shadow

He felt the silent ripple from the far away stars

That was the innocent compassion of the original delight

In the sat, the chit is the ananda of intuitive imagination

Within us all the divine rests always in peace

Lord Krishna, Monalisa

Lord Krishna, Monalisa

We follow the nuances of time while growing towards it

Beyond paradox, marshalling the forces into infinite liberty

Barajavantosh creation is far away, far away

In the platinum, movements observe varying planes of consciousness

Da-Da-Da the rivers awake before the sun has drenched the stone in its destiny.

 

– Joy Roy Choudhury

Ref: Da- Datta-Charity; Dayadhvam-Compassion; Damyata-Self-Control {Brhadaranka Upanishad, Rishi Yajnavalkya}

 

 

 

 

 

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Counter-Clockwise Movements of Cyclical Time in the Ever Evolving YungDrung of Prima Matra in the Ancient Tapriza Hymn of the Bon

Olmo Lungring, Samij Datta, 2012

Counter-Clockwise Movements of Cyclical Time in the Ever Evolving YungDrung of Prima Matra in the Ancient Tapriza Hymn of the Bon

Consciousness-Analogue

The four apostles are the tetra-terra streams of light

They advance towards the everlasting sea

The dragon submerges the truth in the cradle of darkness

Peacock elephant snow lion horse – thou art come within and shine

Thou art the secret messengers of the sacred land ‘olmo-lungring’

From the cave of the Neanderthal, the Bonpo gazes at the pristine stars of Shenrab

No beginning or end have ever won him any glory

He was the child of his own thoughts killing the hours by the seconds in the years

His friend was the rivers that spoke with the trees talking about Michelangelo

His words were metaphors that etherized a desert with the menthol of Alma mater

His verse were the true link of a polymerase chain in the Satprem of Sri Aurobindo

In the alpha-square of the geo-hunet gravity the leopards are eating the Frankenstein of the race

Let time be the tool in the wheel of fire to reshape the moment on a frictionless road

Let new words be the design of merit born from the gulf of differences to institutionalise individual development and progress

Known is the unknown chapter in the Gnostic book of the dead

Towards the non-dual social sign the symbol are the letters written on Savitri

The moon climbs on the back of her hair

The red face is the lotus of the Alblackica fountain

Spring calls the fleeting birds in the tower of Babel

Allow them to speak with thy tongue

Let thy chaos be moulded into the antiquity of consciousness

Let thy mind be vacant with it

Anadiutsakendre jage rat

Karagar theke lanthan niye ay

Akasher chari haste bhorer ananda ke tapriza pathay tar shei chithi

Uttor madhur ek Taranga te anabil ak hashi

Jano ure jay ramdhanu nadiyay alor chande ak nadi

Chalo jai surjer par dhore sagar mohonay

Srot ashim ek srot

Nei samay, “HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME”.

 

– Joy Roy Choudhury

Ref: “HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME”. – II- A Game of Chess, The Wasteland, 1922- T.S. Eliot