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Wednesday, 24 October 2012

PRABUDDHA

1


It was like a new lifetime

after a spent lifetime,

he felt;

like a new birth

following death,

he thought.


The white-clad nurses,

white sheets and white walls

and other white things

merged and rolled out

like a curtain, a screen

a veil of mist

to the slowly opening eyes

of awakening consciousness. 


And all the sounds,

within and without the ward

crashed like an ocean

a thunderstorm

and in bits and pieces

as single note and the Holy Ohm

the music of the conscious

he began to hear.


After countless aeons,

time,

frozen and thick,

caught the warmth

of slowly opening eye-light

began to flow

by and by. 


And recollection permeated eyelid

unfolded like a series of stills

upon the white eye screen.

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