Maya

It rained then,
the land lurching upward
to grab the first answer
from a reluctant heaven.

‘Maya’ you called it.
Our limited senses gathering bits of the universe,
crafting a false reality.
A cocoon of complex sanity.
The subtle truth altogether too large and too simple
for our life-sodden minds.

Like love, I asked.
The beloved coloured by the eyes of the lover.
Interpreting word and touch,
weaving safety nets.
Gossamer veracity.

No absolutes, you said.
Your seeing changes the seen.
Your seeing amplifies the unseen.
Align the nested microcosms,
find the smallest integrity.
Quantum uncertainty.

A symphony beat uncaring
on the brick red Malabar tiles.
I stuck my hand out of the window
to collect the candour of the billowing storm.
A single raindrop ran down my finger,
containing the entire sky.
contained in the entire sky.

‘Maya’ you called it.
Uncertain truth.
The illusion of sanity.

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51 thoughts on “Maya

  1. I must get to your website more. It is indescribable what your writing does to me and iredistable. I read this poem first on my email site and really liked it in that format yoo, where it ran like a paragraph, then read again. It is hard to describe the reading, as it brings all my senses alive, and is more like an immersion. It is almost a dangerous feeling as I submit to the words and rhythm, yet come out feeling so refreshed. That is how I honestly feel about reading your pieces like this.

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  2. oh my goodness, this poem! it was such an easy read in the best way possible. you wove words together seamlessly and bestowed such clarity upon the message in the pattern.

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  3. This is a feast of wordplay and imagery. I love the bigger than the universe lines, the eyes that are opened so wide that they get to see what isn’t always there…

    I wonder what this poem would like illustrated.

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  4. Yes, the mysteries hinted at & exposed, the questions posed, poked, & responded to–the cosmic energy hidden between the lines, in the spaces between the letters, all swell to a crescendo of introspection & insight, as we are rightfully instructed to /align the nested microcosms/ banishing the black holes, polishing the portals; yes, yes.

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    1. The concept of Maya in our philosophy is hard to comprehend as is, at the other end of the spectrum, quantum physics. Somewhere in there is the answer to who we are and why we are here….possibly.

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  5. A cocoon of complex sanity – what a stellar line – and that raindrop – magical – made me think of dipping a finger in the church font.. small moments are often the most magical and blessed

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  6. “A symphony beat uncaring
    on the brick red Malabar tiles.
    I stuck my hand out of the window
    to collect the candour of the billowing storm.
    A single raindrop ran down my finger,
    containing the entire sky.
    contained in the entire sky.”

    I am transported by this stanza. This single raindrop is transformative.
    Beautifully penned.

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  7. loved the first couple of verses here especially– transcendental, almost.
    “It rained then,
    the land lurching upward
    to grab the first answer
    from a reluctant heaven…” –beautiful

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  8. You amaze me.

    These are my favorites:

    “the land lurching upward
    to grab the first answer
    from a reluctant heaven.”

    “A cocoon of complex sanity.
    The subtle truth altogether too large and too simple
    for our life-sodden minds.”

    “weaving safety nets.
    Gossamer veracity.”

    “Your seeing changes the seen.
    Your seeing amplifies the unseen.”

    “Align the nested microcosms,
    find the smallest integrity.”

    “A single raindrop ran down my finger,
    containing the entire sky.”

    Like

  9. A beautiful perspective of nature ~ These lines are specially lovely:

    A single raindrop ran down my finger,
    containing the entire sky.
    contained in the entire sky.

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  10. Don’t know if my first comment posted as my connection was interrupted–this is breath-taking, beginning with the first stanza that reaches for understanding. The repetition of Maya brings home the mysteries we cannot grasp.

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  11. I’m reading a lot of rain-sodden poetry on this open link night – descriptive of spring, perhaps?
    But there is a world hidden in your raindrop, of course, and everything is still fluid, rather than uncertain…
    Just one observation: I love the word gossamer and was using it blithely in my own poetry when a certain respected poet told me to never use it, as it’s one of those overused ‘poetic’ words which will instantly turn any poetry editor off. (Not me, though, but I thought I would share that piece of ‘wisdom’ or cold hard reality check with you)

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