This is the ninth post in the Tagore/Kabir series.
A million is just short
A million is just short of a
Vishnus and Brahmas and Krishnas and Shivas and Indras, their
Anchor is surely just sort of a minion, and minions
Do not go gently into that good night, brother, and the
Depths are not plumbed by
Leading, but by sinking and singing, by the float of the play on
Vina; the flowers and scents of sandal are the
Good night, the crumb of the good good morning.
Tagore comes short of Kabir
II. 57. jânh khelat vasant riturâj Where Spring, the lord of the seasons, reigneth, there the Unstruck Music sounds of itself, There the streams of light flow in all directions; Few are the men who can cross to that shore! There, where millions of Krishnas stand with hands folded, Where millions of Vishnus bow their heads, Where millions of Brahmâs are reading the Vedas, Where millions of Shivas are lost in contemplation, Where millions of Indras dwell in the sky, Where the demi-gods and the munis are unnumbered, Where millions of Saraswatis, Goddess of Music, play on the vina— There is my Lord self-revealed: and the scent of sandal and flowers dwells in those deeps.
The three eternities
1. Reverence is the greeting of summer; it is 2. Bound, which is truth outside of Matter, truth in thrall of antimatter 3. Convergence is the ball of fiber rolling you towards three eternities 3a The one which lies low, the 3b One which hides from the line of sun, and 3c One which is you/asking Me deciding/ demanding