I am prospecting for love in the chamber of the heart
and if love is to be found there I'll have done my part.
How deep will I have to go depends on that ground
in which buried is a love so many say is to be found.

How can I be sure when it's so dark and cold in there
without any light or warmth to see or feel seems bare.
I'll have to strike at any dying embers of love for You
that I carry with me always which once felt to be true.

Time and neglect should've extinguished them by now
but it seems they're still smouldering inside somehow.
With the fuel of desire awakened thinking of You again
those flames of love may rise and glow once more then.

The gold nugget of Your love is to be found in the heart
one has to look deeply in there and make a sincere start.
There's no real way of telling just how far one has to go
'till the light and warmth of Your love is experienced so.

Sensations rise up within along the spine to one's crown
where a light appears to the inner gaze fixed in that town
of the space between the two eyes in one's mind where
darkness is usually seen but now gets dispersed in there.
_______

►☼◄
ओं मणिपद्मे हूं

I sing the Self – that mystic fable.
Lie to Truth as Cain to Abel.
Inner blight of fallen man,
enemy of Heaven’s master-plan:
your inner SELF! The guiding light
of Luciferian deception.
Mystic wisdom’s blinding sight;
purveyed as truth: obscene confection.
Listen well – please spare your soul
and sidestep this, the blackest hole.
Your self is sewage! Look within;
behold that putrid old abyss
then dive down deep into your sin
the fallen source of carnal bliss.
Inspire.  Inhale in full the stench
from deep within the septic trench
unsounded depths, a cesspool’s source
depravity released in force.
Apart from mercy undeserved
on those whom Heaven has reserved.
Apart from Christ, your sordid purpose;
jewel whose bright refracted surface
glistens, beckoning to the feast
yet never can appease the beast.
I hail your lie, oh Inner Self
you silted continental shelf –
(or are you more a surge oceanic:
roiling undertow satanic)?
New Age myth, and Hindu idol
fallen god whose pull is tidal…
Brahman, Atman, Buddha, babble
lies repackaged for the rabble…
How deep do you intend to go
into our post – Edenic show?
How far the bottom? Whence the end?
Explore ! You’ll never comprehend.
You’ll find still worse – and yet descend.