Ceator or Creation

CREATOR OR CREATION

O Mahashakti, O The Mighty Power, O The Supreme Brahma, –what are you? Who are you?

I feel, I smell, I hear, I see, I touch you everywhere, on all sides, every hour, every moment. Yet, I do not know, do not understand who you are.

You work me, you work the world and all that is therein, to which I am perceptive. You are so small, so weak, so sluggish in the tiny things which crawl and creep round me; so slow and hesitant to grow in the little shoots in the flower bed; so shy to open in the buds which I watch in the morning. Yet you are so mighty in driving the winds, in hurling torrents down the valleys and gorges, in lifting the mad waves on the sea. You are so silent in the stars, so sweet in the smile of the blue sky; but so fierce in the clouds, so thunderous in their flashes.

O Mighty Power – Who are you? What are you?

I see you here in the playful child; there in the impulsive youth, and behind him in the depressed old.

I hear your voice in the mirth, shout and laughter on the right, and in the wail, weep and cry on the left.

I behold you over the horizon and near too in my moving shadow. I see you in the blush of the dawn, in the glare of the day, in the fade of the twilight, and in the gloom of the night.

I wonder, I marvel, I reflect, I ask, I call, – but O The Mighty Mysterious, you do not come, do not tell who you are, what you are.

I sit up; I look around and then lie down to meditate. And then how and when you steal in me I never perceive. How you lull me to sleep I never know. And then you disappear, and you and your creation – movement, work, stimulus and activity–all cease to exist. The world vanishes; the creation dwindles into nothing. The roar of the seas, the thunder of the clouds, the hiss of the winds go to silence. The horizon sinks; the sky melts away; the sun, the moon, the stars disappear.

The clatter of footsteps, the shouts, the laughter, the wails and cries stop, and I too cease to exist till you wake me again.

O Mahashakti, O The Mysterious Power,–who are you, what are you?

Do you sleep when I sleep? Do you cease to exist when I cease to exist? Do you wake when I wake? Do you perceive and work on me when I perceive you? Do you spread before me when I turn my mind and perception to you?

Let me ponder; let me close my eyes and reflect. But how strange! As I reflect and my mind withdraws within itself you go out of perception, out of existence.

O Mahashakti, how mighty, how great you are when I look out for you; but how weakly, how helplessly you depend on me, on my attention, on my thinking of you. You stand and show and exist if I attend and turn my thoughts on you. You are on the east when I turn to east and on the west when I turn to west, in front of me when I look for you, and away when I look away. O, how you depend on me, on my attention.

Are you my creation, or am I your creation?