Lover Above

The trees too bored of the same old song,
Words proclaiming the endeavors of the past
So sing to the trees a great new song,
Words that believe in endeavors of the future
Hold fear in the palm of your hand,
Look it in the eye till it flees from your presence
Why fear when you are the flute of the almighty?
You are the harp of the shepherd of creation

The pleasant fingers of the darling wind,
Soothing my mind, calming the furious ocean within
Only in the hands of my creator my heart is at ease,
To whom my soul truly belongs, the artist of life
Remember you are but a mere instrument,
Through which heaven’s wonders are worked on Earth
It is us not I, we not he, universal, one
To the tune of love let us dance,
Our creator, his beauty is true beyond measure

Has the eye of man seen the heart of the sky?
Or the ear of a man heard the words of an ant?
Has the nose of man sniffed the fragrance of the atom?
Has the tongue of man tasted what his heart truly craves?
For what man wants does he himself know?
Life is more than desire, more than achievement.
Ecstasy is a matter of ego-murder,
Kill that ego, Hang it, and destroy it!
The death of ego will give us wings,
The birth of humility will reproduce laughter,
Love is in the air, don’t capture it just feel it
Feel the joy, the peace and the harps of the angels and the symphony of heaven

Words have been wasted on this shallow question,
Is God dead, or is He alive?
Fool! Your verdict is of no value don’t you see?
For if we credit the womb or not we are still from it!
Why climb buildings to heaven, built with bricks of lies?
When the secret stairway to heaven is within our hearts
Listen, see, taste and feel,
The voices around, the birds in the air,
The nectar of an apple, the wind that blows,
And after all this we sit down and question!
Is God dead, or is He alive?
Fools! Fools!

Time is too precious to be wasted on arguing the undeniable,
So save it to create what you were purposed to
The fabric of faith lies in the death of ego,
Submit to the almighty, see his sparkling face
It doesn’t reflect, it radiates,
The face of truth, the face of creation
Open your ears you faint-hearted people,
The truth is here, pure, and untainted,
Don’t manipulate, just accept,
Feel the wind that blows, hear the song of truth,
God never left us! It was we, who left Him,
We return and not Him,

I can see the city of life,
The happy people are dancing,
The king of creation enthroned,
On his eternal throne of justice
And all the people are happy,
And the people are still happy,
Happy for eternity,
The lover above is now with us,
Forever, forever, eternity!

The Scientist's Prayer

And he knelt down before the wind to pray, the words flowing from his lips from the depths of his heart, ‘I must admit, the courage in me to question you is from doubt. For too long has it scourged my mind, and I am now left with no choice but to let it all out.
The things around me are so clear and understandable. The things I can see, hear, touch and feel everything has meaning to it, a certain sense of logic behind it. But the abstract concept of your plan never seems to instill any sort of comfort in me. Where am I to search? What am I to do? The numbers and figures that explain the things of this world are so clear! Can I not understand You in the same way? With numbers and figures, equations with answers! In my life, people have told me that if I believe, one day I will dance joyfully in the rivers of truth for all eternity, but if I do not, I will face the curse of eternal damnation! All these things seem so vague to me, like a fairytale! As I grew in this world, my mind moved from a world of fantasy when I was a young child into another world with boundaries built with sense, logic and common perception. You seem to be devoid of all of these! Perhaps this is my weakness to bear, but I have decided to tell you what it is that disturbs me, wherever you are, whether you are watching and hearing me, or you are not, I believe this prayer will comfort me.
Tell me God, what is purpose? Am I to create it or am I to find it?
Tell me God, are you just the cumulative result of the human mind’s craving for a symbol of perfection? Or do you truly exist, somewhere in a heaven above? Is there gravity in that heaven? Do the laws of forces and attraction work there? Or am I too shallow to think only so little? Then tell me! Give me some sense of comfort! I want to hear you!
I want to see you! It is truly comforting in life to believe there is someone up there who loves you unconditionally, someone who is waiting to save you! But wouldn’t it be so much easier if I only knew who that someone was?
It is difficult to find comfort, but I know you are there, somewhere, you have to be!
For if man is a result of evolution, there must be a governor of evolution. For such a process cannot take place on its own accord.
The world is like a puzzle, and sometimes it is hard to believe that the pieces can fit so perfectly without someone putting them in place.
It is a dilemma that your existence is sometimes so obvious and sometimes like a fairytale!
It is true that over the last four thousand years, since man had any sort of intelligence in him, the quest for God has been his greatest till today.
Is the human to transcend the boundaries of sense and logic to understand you? Is that the only way?
Perhaps it is foolish of me to question you, but what else am I to do to escape the dungeons of doubt?
I want you to know God that I believe in you. And I want you to know that I also believe one day you will save me, and everybody else. Consider me an innocent child with innocent tears in his eyes, making a plea to you.
Every human prays at the foot of fear, for it is till today the strongest enemy of fear.
For there is nothing that conquers fear as quickly and wholly as prayer!
I am discomforted, and all I ask is some sense of comfort in my mind.
Teach me to deny sense and logic when I have to, open my eyes to see the unopened doors behind which lie truths that are eternal.
Help me understand that numbers were made by men, and men were made by God.
I crave for a sign, but I know you will never give me one. You are a tester of hearts, and you refine them in dreadful fires of sorrow and difficulty.
Are you there? Where are you? Open my eyes to see, and my ears to hear.
Doubt is my problem, not yours, but please just lay a comforting hand on my shoulder, it’s all I need.