Origin of the World

As I climb your mountains,
Stand on top of your peak,
I gaze far away
And see your valley
Of thousand mysteries —
The fertile crescent
For which men wage wars,
And die miserable deaths
Of forgotten despair
Your majestic canyon
Would be the muse for artists,
Or sometimes a distraction
For poor vagrant poets —
A mischievous mirage,
An eternal writer’s block
Towards a sad oblivion.
Princes and monarchs
Of times forgotten
May have sought
To own that gorge,
To veil that vale.
But to no avail,
For you remain untamed.

As I slide down your mounts,
And step on your steppe —
A long way that divides
The peaks and the vale.
A plain I must cross
No matter how long it takes
To reach my sanctuary,
The place where I belong.
In the midst of that trek,
You guide the lucky ones
To an oasis on the path —
A vestigial relic,
A reminder for us all,
Of where you come from —
Sometimes a small burrow,
Sometimes a small mound,
To lay and to rest,
To replenish my zeal
Of reaching my haven,
To pursue the holiest
Of all the pilgrimages
A man can take.

As I find myself
On my way to Eden,
I stumble upon
Your enchanted forest —
Luscious and dense.
A place that would make
A divine Kalpataru,
Or even a mighty Yggdrasil,
Bow down in reverence.
The Tree of Knowledge itself,
Will struggle, and mumble
To find words to describe
Your haunting beauty,
And your primordial grace.
Or, perhaps I will find
A savannah, or a sahara,
Whatever your whim …
However your wish,
To hide or conceal
Your ravine of secrets
Primal and ancient.
To a faithful pilgrim,
The journey is worth it.

As I near the very end
Of my passionate mission,
You greet me with your flower,
Holier than lotus.
Even heavenly Parijatas,
Or Zunaira-e-Jannah,
Would seem pale and faded
In contrast to its elegance.
A kiss on the petal,
A caress on the stigma,
Will make you tremor and ache
And the sky will resonate
With your euphoric roar …
The distant twin peaks
Will shake in harmony
And wobble and oscillate
While you make it rain …
Water rushing through your canyon —
A river more divine
Than Yamuna or Ganges —
A running holy stream
Putting Cauvery to shame.

As I get baptized in your creek,
I consume your holy water
That reminds me of the ocean
Of primordial ideas.
Now that your valley
Opens and widens,
I now dive deeper
In a world full of darkness …
A warm, soft, and cozy
Primeval cave of chaos
Teeming with entropy.
It’s this valley and this cave
That perhaps once inspired
A certain painter
That saw in you
The Origin of the world.
As a tribute to your greatness
My beloved Goddess
I will dance to end all dances
Like a rage-drunk Shiva,
In the depth of your abyss,
In the pit of your chasm.
In the trench of your void.
I will gift you my being,
My essence, my spirit,
A worthy blood-sacrifice
Of strange and mystic power
To create new worlds
Or multiverse infinite of
Ever-growing chaos…
And together we will utter,
Like lovers of days old,
In affectionate unison:
Let there be light…