I cradled me and looked after my being
remembered Bible stories
Jesus healing sick souls
once mine.

I was so tempted
felt emotions that hummed.
I wanted to taste the moment
smell the scent
smother the lion in all who pursued me.

I touched the moon,
and then I slept there.
I thought I heard you singing.
It was way past midnight,
but I still decided to wait,
grant you entrance into my images of rain
and memories of storms.

In the supreme culture of the East, a tradition, where poetry and spirituality have no distinct boundaries, multitudes of metaphors, feelings and passions are gathered to convey the heart and the mind of the sage, and the wise man to the masses.

The poet writing through the intensity of his mood, often speaks of the weeping of man and the agony of his spirit, trapped in the conditions of the transitory life, playing the voice and the dream in unison. The beauty of a bride, who sweeps her hands through her bed, looking for the petals fallen from the crown of her Prince, lies in this portrait of the soul looking for God.

Myths or mythos for the ancient Greeks was an allegoric vehicle to awaken the soul from its forgetful past for those who were spiritual and sensitive enough to recognise the veiled truth behind it. The Greek word μύθος= myth, derives from the sound ‘mou’=murmur, which we produce when our lips are closed and the word Μυστήριο= mystery= inexplicable, adjoins with it. Together they form a secret communicating organ for every soul who is ready to recollect the forgotten experience from their previous incarnations.