Arrays of stars land softly
on this thick bed of pine needles
under your graciously reaching tree,
and we see impossibly blue, miniature
flowers with centers of infinite white.

Tunneling underground, more
have been born over the decades
since you planted their mothers and fathers
by hand, here in this garden that has become
a secret woodland, even in the middle of town.

High above the Holy River Ganges
where the water flows like Brahman itself,
  is an ancient cave, a place of sacred pilgrimage.

Entering silently, our small gathering
sat together, meditating here where the great
sage himself transcended in deep samadhi.

Wrapped in warm shawls, dhotis and saris,
eyes closed gently in the stony half-light.

Early hours had seen us awake, readying
for this auspicious day, and the sleepiness
of a little child began to overtake me.

With that same innocence, a childlike feeling,
I curled down into a woolen bundle, asleep
in the inner depths of that holy, dark place.

Sleep was sleep, and not sleep,
as awareness shone within me.

Limitless akasha unfolded inside me now,
and the ground where I rested expanded
into that same unbounded, cosmic space.

From far beneath the cool, damp earth,
a radiance travelled into my small frame.

Renewing energy suffused and blessed me.

Bowing in my heart, I touch the lotus feet
of Maharishi Vashistha. His darshan
shines on into our present day, and
throughout all of Ved Bhumi Bharat.