To A Storm Poem by Prabir Gayen

To a Storm
(Bulbul)

Hail to You, The Mighty Spirit,
for your violent coming
to shed me from my small Me,
My am-ness is my dungeon,
My Me is my redemption,
With each violent stroke
You blow each furrow of my wound,
With each harmonious tune
You attune me to my begotten sorrow,
The tempestuous spirit of Joy,
The timeless spirit of thoughtless
Upsurge,
Oh The Mighty dark womb,
Seemingly, a destroyer of Joy,
In Your bosom the root to happiness,
You are a Shock to sleeping mind,
A mind full of IFS and Buts, and dreams,
From shaking sprout to shaven tree,
From shattered shack to tearing Chateau,
Oh Mighty Storm, You sprawled
With me and I am grown into You,
My pain is embedded in your restless Mind -
with no flavour of mind we own,
You are a mindless multitude within
and without a sneaking vacuum,

The Storm within me a deep unrulyspark,
From cradle to Cosmos a deep cover,
A wrapper of unreal faces,
The womb of unreal darkness,
I am a storm with no direction,
You come and go clearing the lawn
Of my maudlin mind,
With your twinging Mower,
You and me an unlike melee
The sameness at the core of mettle and uptake,
You are my hidden mind and nurture
You in me with the storm of my Being,
With the storm of my headless desire
we both are no-desire,
From a state of tumultuous distress
I feel you in every fibre of my Self.

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@Prabir Gayen - 9 November,20198: 54 PM.