Lies of a Cosmic Saint

Sometimes few moments, Leave us Still. So still, that there seems no reason Or purpose To move. Being still becomes Our truth. The truth, we always want To be with. That truth, with which, We create such eternal thread, That it leaves us even more Vulnerable to stillness, and we Keep on being it. Stillness is not peace, It is neither being calm. Stillness is extreme turmoil, Chaos in an orderly fashion. Stillness is silence Of the eye Before it becomes a storm’s Child. Stillness is what makes us Strong, builds us For the chaos of higher order. Stillness is the moment, When we choose from fire And ice. It is the decisive epoch Of our atomic life span. Stillness is the wandering dream Of a shooting star, The anger of the cosmic saint, The lie that prevails And feeds the cosmos. Stillness is nothingness. It is becoming whole While breaking bit by bit. To be it, One has to be it, Not embrace it, Not possess it, Never find it, But be it. To be still Is to move, It is just the paradigm Magnified to infinitesimal Niche of the time. When those moments arrive, And stillness takes over, A seeker can find All five horizons. To be still is to drown In passion, not just float In the oceans of time. To be still is to leave The very paradigm Of space-time continuum. All concepts, those bind us With time and space, Break in the pieces, Independent of space-time Based derivatives and equations. Some new variables come into play, A new chaos, And simultaneously, a new order. That being said, Meeting you was such a moment for me, A moment of stillness!

– Chandra Prakash Verma