The crucible of emptiness, effaced from sight
A graceful host or the womb of creation?
To which the stars and galaxies return
The apparition turns holy, when emptiness touches infinity
Safely lost in that cloud, sun and earth
The distance constant, held taut by strings of gravity
That gel of the universe, it gives and takes
Keeping us in place, like darts on a dartboard
Only our raucous rockets can tear that invisible veil
That keeps us grounded in a home that we didn’t chose
Early on, it was a dark and watery world
A grave, if not for a lifeline from a willing mother
We emerge transformed, morphing through shapes
Of grotesque beauty, like the anglerfish
Scouring the ocean’s floor, it’s purpose unknown
Unlike the invented ones, imposed on our fragile frames
Evanescent charms, keep us from our birthright
Like honey encased in delicate sheets, of filo dough
The gift of bliss, remains hidden
Behind a waterfall, of emptiness
A drop saturates the dark canvas, full of stars
Easily bleached, by the morning sun
Revealing a blue sky, that we cannot penetrate
With eyes or fingers
We are nothing, in the midst of everything
Within or without, when we choose the difficult walk
On a tightrope, of the mind
One end tethered in the banal allures
The other end anchored in a sea without a floor
There is only one way to go
Dropping everything, and seeking nothing
Only then can we recreate, the crucible of emptiness
By joining empty palms, when opened
Like a flower in blossom
Will show everything in nothing
In that we finally touch, the fragrance of bliss
- N. Seshadri
