Confessions of a sanmarkee…

Oh! my Master,

Solemnly affirming

Sincerely stating under oath

I am consciously aware;

Chanting before doors closed

Arut Perunjothi maha mantra

Dispelled my fears of destiny;

But before the opened doors

Like a flag without a mast

I am folded in emptiness

In all my prostrations.

Oh! my Master,

Trampled in a temporal weather

I am tossed like withering leaves;

Veils of variety still hang around

My mind yoked in earthly ambitions;

Somebody whispers in my ears,

Sanmarkee not known by his dress

But by his truthfulness always,

In thoughts, words and deeds;

Waters of Satya Gnana Sabai

Wash away the guilt in my ego.

Oh! my Master,

Sanmarkee lives not as a person

Introspecting in meditation ever,

Absorbed in the light resplendent

Between his eyes in locked brows;

Sanmarkee, a person radiating

Chastity in charity of compassion,

In thoughts, words and deeds;

With the lamp in Siddhi Valagam

I still wander in my walks of life

Between carnal in the carnage.

.

Oh! my Master,

Sanmarkee shall know

Soul lived in many bodies,

Many bodies in the future;

Whether one is rich or poor,

Experience of soul counts.

I am cleaning my past karma

In many a method of yoga,

I am not creating my future

With the bricks of freedom;

My path remains unaltered

In an abject adulteration.

Oh! my Master,

Sanmarkee is not a person

Who simply reads and recites,

Translates, quotes and argues

Sings, teaches and lectures;

But one who lives by principles

Primordial in the annals of Justice.

Like the tireless waves of ocean

My desires wet sands on shore;

I am unable to positively answer

Questions of the King of Justice

In “Manumurai” in the negative.

Oh! my Master,

Illuminated in discrimination

My delusion injures the innocent;

Leaving behind caste and creed

I have not walked to the beyond;

Withering with withered vegetation

I am yet to leave land of falsehood,

I have not paid back my debts I owe,

I drink their sweat, suck their blood

I am not a lotus eater in bliss;

But a human flesh eater

In all the senses accepted.

Oh! my Master,

I am wakeful ever in passion

I am alone in my possession

I am hungry for fame always

I am not a compass of truth;

Degrees behind my name

Longer than the winding Nile

But the degree of living never

Meaningful than an illiterate;

How to needle the compass

Other than to North?

Oh! my Master,

Back in my land of birth

With all the color of money

Even a handful of grain,

A luxury to my descendants;

Planting a seed of one by one

Provides for many a mouthful;

If all cross the ocean to earn

Casting away the plough to rust

Where is the promise of cure

For the disease of hunger?

Oh! my Master,

Sanmarkkam is a jewel of truth

It is a jewel for the living

I am not wearing the jewel;

It is in the locker of my coffin

My case not yet listed for hearing

Even if it is delayed for births

Will it ever be heard to all?

In patience, I am laid to rest

Will I ever rise from the dead

Or wander around my grave

As a corpse clad in funeral robes?

Will there be a judgment?

Written on behalf of the sanmarkee within in me.

sivajayakumar