The following poem on The Word presents an artist's perception of the birth of Anhata Naad, the Primordial Sound. Interestingly enough, it was published in the Journal of English Literary Club of the Department of English, University of Peshawar, Pakistan.
There
came then the Night of the Soul
The
Bright Dawn knocks again at
Out
of the silent womb of infinity
It
fell, the Word
Into
the gaping oyster-lips of Man
And
he afire with Wisdom Supreme
Sang
out in reverential chant
Aum,
Amen and Ameen
The
fire within was utterly lost
In
columns of pitch dark smoke and
Man
dwarfed strove to confront
Aum
with Amen and Ameen
The
door of mortal existence
The
birds, the beasts and the plants
And
even this mute insensate earth
Sing
glories of the fructifying Word
Why
then should you, o slothful man
Soil
yourself in the mire of Ignorance
Cast
off the veil!
Let
Anger, Greed, and phantom Lust
Slither
down like a scree
And
rebaptised in the Spirit of Truth
Behold
the Beauty of the Word.
(My other poems can be accessed at http://www.ravikdhar.in/poetrysection.html)
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