Et tu, Su! Be Bliss, Adieu!

Et tu, Su! Be Bliss, Adieu!

My invisible communicators
That left their earthly existence unsung,
Finding no Mozart to quench their passion,
Nor a Hyde-Lees to symbolize them in some vision,
Nor any Harris to materialize them from his ectoplasm,
Rap at my humble fancies and goad me
Into venting their muffled sensibilities,
Which they had spun round them,
And couldn’t shed while spiralling up.
I’m no spirit-rapper though, nor a clairvoyant,
Yet my human sympathies yield to their ephemeral urges,
And I let their sticky impressions infuse my mind
For emitting the flavour to their taste.
Thus far, my convexity is lined with their concavity.
My secret messengers pulsating with etheric substance,
But with no guiding beam for eternal peace,
Visit me off and on and leave behind messages,
Personal in context but universal in appeal.
The neophytes that were waylaid by the hounds of fate,
While fondling a roadside flower,
Vex me more than the old entities
That have rinsed out their sea of passion.
Lamp does not flicker in a windless place,
Nor can it shine in a smoky glass.
It’s only the illusioned spirits that keep me shaking and waking,
At times, all through the night for instructional seances.
Now I feel a spine-chilling presence—who? Come up!

Though this rush of rustlings from across the gulf of death
Strains my poor nerves, yet I enjoy this interaction with them
Who are timing their beats to chime
In unison with the Supreme Monad.
Oh! What a taxing joy, what a vicarious suffering
To try to deliver a spirit of its drag and delusion!
Now who is thrilling me through the spine?
Some one in particular seems to be tapping my neurons.
Who is rippling the stream of my consciousness?
Oh, Et tu, Su! Among the host!
Welcome Su! How can I refuse a session with you?
I quite know of your tragic fate; it was all preordained;
Of earthly existence, death is the final taste.
Death never comes dressed in perfumes,
Nor life carries tassles of gold for all,
And your span was designed for a pall of gloom.
Brave soul, you fought long and fought well
Against the King of Terrors.
Kudos for the superb performance of your role!
When you cast off your cloak,
Its rustlings resounded through the globe.
But every wrong is redressed in silence.
As the karmic account has been cleared,
Now is your time for salvation.
You are above the necessity of reincarnation;
Shed all the earthly trappings now and
Peel off the illusory layers around you and be free.

The Fumbling Fairy, all have to leave this world,
And have to leave it alone.
Death admits no love, no oblations.
There’s eternal warmth in your frozen glory.
Once you, with a boundless will,
Submitted to my chaste exhortations
While I charioted you through the meshes of passions.
Now in requital, I hand over to you the strings of my fancies,
Pull at them till you regain your composure.
The Unwetted Lotus, sleep is the little death,
And death is the little sleep.
Both constantly remind us of our incorporeity,
And both are a necessity for revivification;
The enlightened ones naturally attain liberation.
The Divinely Chiselled, what is non-existent can never exist,
And what exists can never cease to be.
Come out of your veil to be the Infinite.
Shake off the trammels of the phenomenal world.
The Immortal One, Soul can’t be regimented by cause and effect;
Look, He who dwells in all dwells in you.
You are not a soul; you are the Soul;
Will your Self across the oceans of Time.
The Unmanifest, you do not exist, you are the Existence.
You are not the manifestation of a law, you are the Law.
The Enlightened One, now as you have cast off your slough,
Shove off to the realm of no return.
Pervade the whole universe, be Bliss! Adieu!

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