Biography of Vedanth Bhatnagar
I belong to Him and He to me.
Vedanth Bhatnagar Poems
The Prophet I
Long millenia ago, ere The Universe, to prevail There wast, The One, Whose Mighty, Infinite Magnificence, Wouldst pervade, eall Life, eall matter, but once, There wast infinite emptiness, wouldst everything come thence.
A Death Without Mourns
Thy son hast not comforted, He lived a life alone, Now, leaves, as his breath, To none, shalt it be known,
An Animal's Story
I was born, without speech, To benevolent Mother Earth, Feeble, flaccid, ignorant of this cruel world, That love of my Mother had hid in her kind mirth;
A Wait, A Dream Ii
I dreamt of a flower, Yet, to bloom, upon which, lay dews, And, at morn’s hour, It swept to none, swept to fews;
A Wait, A Dream I
I glanced, as the sun withdrew, Upon the horizon, dusks of broken dreams, Forlorn, I stand, sorrows afew, Whence, amongst the pouring water, is felled a dew,
Of Sorrow, Of Loneliness
'Thou hast fillest me with Light, Thy reasons art unknown, But Thee left me in loneliness, For alone, now, shalt I mourn.
I Hence Regret
Where I went astray, In the darkness of the light's betray, Where I committed crimes, Singing of unknown times;
The Prophet Ii
And The Creation, which He hadst created, whence His Breath Floweth, now rose and expanded, within His realm of Grey Curtains, And there wert later realms of small formed, realms of utter magnificence, Of these realms, knew the Souls of His realm of Grey,
An Experience Of His Grace
'Twas a night, of shadows, I walked alone, through a misty breeze, There were howls and cries, Of fear, that were not for me to cease;
A Mirror Of The Past
I glanced into the mirror of the past, And, in through it, I fell Into the times old, I was shown, where once, did I dwell.
Thou, in Thy Infinite magnificence, hast fulfilled our prayers, For now, that we shalt be Risen by Thy Loving, Blessed Child, Until we merge into Thee.
A Blessed Child, To The Worsened Realm
Millenia ago, created, was the Universe, Which He, with His infinite Love, would nurse, And, an Orb, of His best imagination, Of His best creation,
Walking with sorrow's load, That day, as I was passing by the road, A man lay beneath a shed, Without an utterance, he, everything said,
Of His Creation
When Thou felt the time ripe, And Thy forces, all together, The Creation began, with Thy Holy Breath, And flowed in knots beneath;
Wanderers In Time
Like seasons majestic, we come and go,
Flowing through the waters called life,
Choosing our paths, choosing our way,
Try to make a living here, where people are rife;
To make our lives fruitful,
We struggle and make an effort,
And try to help a person or two,
Try to make him happy, unhurt.