by Swami Krishnananda
The worlds which are the planes above,
Have laws descending, slow to earthly mass.
In Brahmaloka, land of Virat, All,
Light enters light and all is everywhere,
Reacting one with other in the sea
Of God’s majesty in creation’s core.
No man, no thing, and none exists but All,
Where one is many and many is one.
The one is here and other, too, is here
Yet none is there, as here and there are one.
The one Majesty swells resistlessly
Beholding Itself as this wondrous vast,
Spirit ingressing into great Spirit.
In next descent which’s Tapoloka called,
Consciousness is of outward universe
Which’s “I am I”, yet Self beholding void,
Where fine potentials world’s are not designed
As Tanmatras the latent patterns hid
Of future forms as gross elementals
The third descent called Janaloka pure
Is dwelt by austere masters and sages
In world of forces, subtle Tanmatras,
Who in them live and in themselves do see
The whole creation in microcosmos.
These are the three where centres multifold
Are each in all, and all converge in each.
From Mahah down the tale of mind begins;
In Mahah knower stands to known opposed
As ‘I am I’ and ‘thou art thou,’ but, heark,
With transparence of self to other selfs,
And one is what the other is in full,
No gulf of sex as male and female forms,
Each is complete and none the other needs.
In Svah, Svarga, mind reacts on mind,
The mental forms of subtle sexes rise,
By mind contacting free from channelled sense.
As senses here in mind are wholly
And shining forms on forms resplendent gaze.
It’s here at first that one the other owns
But, strangely, not as men belongings own.
The strangeness is that each can own the all;
While none is other’s, each is other’s yet.
The social chain by marriage which restrains,
Or ownership of tied-up property,
Is absent here where perfect system reigns
Community’s, and free are all with all.
The forms of men and women virgins stand
In midst of contacts though unending they,
Since wear and tear touch not this fiery realm
Of minds alone from body’s limits free.
The Loka down, Bhuvah, the astral field
Is grosser still, of rarefied mortals,
The moulds of dwellers who earth populate
As fine ingredients, men’s anterior frames.
Here removed are values community’s
And hard distinctions cleave persons and things,
Where each is itself and knows it as such.
The worst is yet; it’s Bhuh, the plane of earth,
In which the objects are elements gross,--
Ether, air, fire, water, earth they call,--
Which senses five collisioned seem to know.
On earth the senses strike on outward things,
But strike is scarce communion or knowledge.
The content ‘out’ does not unite as one
With knower’s being; so the world is out
As neither known nor possessed really.
The earth-life, thus, is all mortality,
It’s death that stalks the earth as human life.
Contraptions made as laws of governments,
Possession, wealth and ev’n marital bonds,
All man-made norms, hence doomed by basic flaw
Perish and vanish, as they exist not.
The life physical, brittle contrivance,
Is not in fact, save vortex destruction’s.
The whirligig of waking, dream and sleep
In brain-washed grasp the mortal does harass.
Exhaustion, decay, decomposition
Of concrete bricks which form the body’s clay,
Pollution, dirt, dependence head to foot,
Endless restraints for every hair and nail,
By toil varnished the joys of sensations,
Characterise this lowest Loka, earth.
When soul to extreme’s breaking point hazards.
And wholly clings to isolated forms,
Turning away attention from the Truth
Which holds together all as Single Life,
Powers above as gushing winds descend
To vacuous fields from concentrated points
The balance Dharma’s quickly to restore,
So that distractions, gross earth’s heritage,
Go not too far from laws of higher realms.
As Rama human comes normative might,
As Krishna bloom and glory truths divine.
As atoms fine and forces constitute
All things and objects as their core and self,
So realms higher indwell and constitute
The lower realms as substance and their self.
Highest is, thus, immanent as the Self
Of every region ranging down below.
As objects’core is not spatially high
So highest realm is all the realms at once.
This is to learn that God is high and low,
And also everywhere, distanceless whole.
To rise to heights is Yoga’s avowed aim,
To know that works are deeds of Highest Self
Which moves the gods of senses and of mind
By themselves naught, sans ego and its pride,
As ancient tale of war which gods did win
By which the Kena-named Upanishad
Highlights the greatness highest Truth’s in plain,
That gods are lifeless sans the Absolute,
And nothing is but That-Which-Is, the All.
‘Go, burn a blade of grass,’ so spoke the Great
To Agni who could turn the world to ash.
‘Blow up this blade,’ It Vayu bade with smile,
The god of Wind who mountains could uproot.
Who knows that leaves that drop from trees in breeze
Move not unless the High of highs ordains.
Ev’n hairs are counted, breaths are numbered well,
Tiniest movements are seen by winkless eyes
Which scan the earth and all creation’s plans.
When two in secret whisper unheard sounds,
The Great One seated in between unseen
Listens as thunder even minute moves.
Public is God and private thought futile,
That One is All; That One alone remains.