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Love and Light

From the Poets....

Dear Readers! The Bhagavad Gita describes the Lord as Kavi, the Supreme Poet, and the entire creation as His Poem. Our beloved Lord, Bhagawan Baba, himself began his every divine discourse with a short but spellbinding poem that condensed profound spiritual truths into simple a nutshell, instantly elevating our consciousness into the Light of higher wisdom and joy. Bhagawan also honoured and encouraged many famed poets in his divine presence, where they assembled with devotion and offered their labours of love during various important occasions. Bhagawan says that true poets are the pioneers who mark out the road for human progress along the lines of love and unity, and with their sharper vision share the divine quality of knowing and recognising the next step (SSS 5-48). Through this special feature, we hope to bring to attention such poets and their poems for our benefit. If any of you feel inspired and wish to share a poem composed by you, then please mail to poems@srisathyasai.org.uk

Twinkle, Twinkle little Star
By N. Kasturi
(In his book, Loving God, pp 439)

During Dasara 1960, on Vijayadasami, the tenth and final day, since only a few ‘poets’ were present for the Festival, Baba had not allowed us to announce the usual ‘Poets Meet’ that evening. I was too engrossed to weave even a single stanza or two either in Kannada or English to be offered to the ‘Poet of Poets’ (Kavim Kaveenaam). I prayed that in the event of the programme materialising, I would not be chosen to participate. But seven poets had their poems ready for presentation. When asked, I confessed that I had not composed any. He asked me which language I could handle more skilfully, Kannada or English. I replied, hesitatingly and nervously, “Kannada.” On hearing this, He ordered me to get a poem ready by evening in English. I shuddered at the assignment, not counting on the Poet before me. He said, “It must be pretty easy for you. Begin ‘Twinkle, twinkle, little Star!’ and the lines will follow as sheep the shepherd”. The poem I read before 25000 devotees, as one of the group of ‘distinguished poets’ in His Presence was:

Twinkle, Twinkle little Star!
Have you wondered what you are-
Pondered any time where you are?
Shall I tell you why you are
Up above the blue so high
Like a diamond in the Sky?

You have to twinkle, little Star;
You are a spark, a flip of Baba’s will
Your twinkle is an echo, the Real is here.
You are but a flash of Baba’s Eye.
When a Star doth fall, its twinkle too
Does merge in Him, its duty done.

For fear of Him, the Fire, it burns;
When He whispers ‘No.’ it lowers its hood
When the leaping rage His Command receives
Its fang recedes, the victim is free.

The Sun, each day, comes round to spread
His Light, His Love, from East to West.
The Moon is sad, for its shady glow
Is not as cool as Baba’s Grace.

The sky when held in His lovely palm,
This formless, shapeless, sky
It hardens, sweetens, shapes or shines
Into varied lasting Things for us.

A heap of sand, a rock, a pebble
The inert-seeming idiot stuff-
It has sense enough to sense His Will
And mutely change to what He gifts.

The roaring flood is a silent trickle
It is a pathway for His Car,
For Fear of Him, the rain, it pours;
When His Flag unfurls, the showers end.

All day long, the trees are full of song,
Froma a thousand tiny throats,
Each little note proclaims His Love,
His Glory and His Grace.

Each puny bud yearns quickly to bloom
And scatter its scent on His delicate Feet.
The dew drop glistens, like you, below,
On His Footrug, carpeted thick with green.

The clouds with wondrous bricks of Light
Well baed in Solar Kiln,
Do build a triumphal arch for Him
Beautiful to behold.

The Firmament, His Tent, is lit
By a billion twinkling stars,
Time is a wink, space but a step
In His eternal Play.

The Milky Way whereon He rides
Is paved with golden globes,
The music of the spheres is a hymn to Him
The nebulae babble His Praise.

The silent mountains all around
Samadhi-wrapt since ages past
Are waiting for a chance to get
A Vision of Him, some lucky hour.

The Wind feels blessed thrice
For, He has allotted It the Task
Of bearing on Its far-spread wings
His voice that comforts, heals.

All tongues do tingle with His Sweetness
All hands do fold and long for Him
All feet do journey the road to Him
All souls shall some day merge in Him.

Twinkle, Twinkle, little Star!
You have to twinkle, little Star!
You are a spark and I am a spark
Of Baba’s thought! O! Brother Star!

- N. Kasturi, Prasanthi Nilayam 1960