In the beginning when nothing was there,
no stirring of life,
no being, no non-being,
no cowl of the sky,
no spangled heavens,
no spring-eyed earths,
no cycle of seasons,
no trace of  time,
no canopy, no roof,
no cloud, no rain,
no land mass, no ocean,
as Agni I was there.

Time had not yet spun its course
death and life non-existent then,
stillness stretched embracing  the void
in the still vacuity of silence,
where still centre alone
ruled over the celestial waters.

There rapt in dreamless sleep
on the python throne reposed
in frozen darkness enveloped,
unfathomable silence.

No stir, no movement,
no flapping, no flutter,
wingless in slumbering void
amorphous  formless,
unconscious, unmanifest.

Yajna, the cycle of sacrifice
the   rhythm of unconditional love
binds one verity to the other:
the tribe, family, civil society.

The suns, moons, oceans
the earth’s biosphere,
in an indissoluble bond  is bound;
life, death, love, time;
the graded layers of creation
in a pattern rise
to the dome of sacrifice.

Buddha, Christ, Muhammad, Nanak:
the heir to wisdom’s mansion,
the instant illumination
in the eternal now.

All evolution is a sacrifice
penance to complete a circle,
become one’s own centre
in the infinite now
to be eternal.

Everyone a phoenix
from his own ashes rising
in a sudden leap
from pitch black night
to infinity of light.

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