Seshendra Sharma
Nagaraajupaadu/Nellore district/AP/India
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Ocean Is My Name - 3

Orchestra in the Forests

Darkness tramples my throat— For my soul, radiance-tanks are needed to take bath. Colossal wind-circles are needed for me to take water with two arms - Green forests, meadows, birds and animals are needed for my eye - my soul surges forward toward them breaking all barriers; the verge of a wet green grass-stalk is enough, a thousand-petalled lotus blooms in my mind.
The voices of the birds that sound like orchestra in the forests are enough, my dreams rush forth; birds are the first poets in the world.
In the meadows where the fruit-bunches hanging like electric lights, and flower-branches swaying like chandeliers together control the five senses; on the green grasslands my dreams playfully spend time. There aromas intoxicate the wind.
For my well-trained eye, flower, bird, colour, and raga are all manifestations of one thing only; different resting places where the soul sojourns in its journey; that my soul immerses itself in one or the other is the sure sign of it.
My soul has converted my body into a garden where different seasons make a sojourn; not only in mansions, but even in heart- flames, there remain gardens, man should tend them. More than outer fields, they should be tended in inner domains...In such poetry-pastures, a peacock should dance like a simile.
Looking at the colour of a flower, I can live for a hundred centuries - Sounds that are life-treasures can be heard only by deathless souls; to gain these sensations of the realms beyond, a magical sunshine-laden art is needed that can be practised in inner recesses…
Then only we come to know that birds' voice is greater than man's voice - the language of the flowers is greater than that of birds - language of the forests, of the streams, of the oceans, the language of the skies and the earth, so many! This is all a magic school of original languages in which experiences are used as alphabets. My soul breathes in those magic sounds. How much is this world indebted to colourful evenings, birds of different ragas, wafting breezes - how can the untrained minds understand?
Having looked at the world intently and studied men deeply I realized that the world is but a collage of signs... all these humans are only signs, wherever we go, humans change, but meanings do not change.
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Ocean Is My Name - 3
Tuesday, March 17, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: inner world
Coming from somewhere as I stepped into this world, it gave
me a name unasked. From then on, all the steps I have made carrying
the weight of all my pleasures and pains are the faltering steps in
quest of an expression - a journey of mine to find a name for
All humans are walking oceans. The day when the human
ocean-roar is heard, I could hear the call of my inner consciousness;
what is searched outside, is found inside. All our external journeys
are guided by impulsive instincts. I am there outside, also inside!
When I melted to tears for the sufferings outside, then only I could
identify my pains inside. "Yachcha kinchit jagatsarvam drushyate
shruya tepiva! Antarbahischa tatsarvam vyapya Narayana sthitha!
Anantha mavyayam kavigm samudrentham vishwashambhuvam."
("This entire universe, visible and audible, within and without, is
embedded in Narayana. Endless, imperishable poet, even visible at
the other end of the ocean is spread across the entire universe.")
At last, in these primal lines the essence of word-power is
unleashed like timeless roar of waves. The turbulence inside unveiled
what I really am!
Now, the heart flows in sounds as though a streamlet courses
through rocks.
That's why, the Chaitra tunes have merged in forests, in
orchestra, in orchestra-clock, and in ocean of time. Now, when the
time comes to name myself, how can it be other than this:
Ocean is my Name
Ramesh T A 17 March 2020
Nice observation of activities taking place in Nature is expressed here by the Poet reminds me of Poet Wordsworth! Thanks for sharing it here!
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