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…