A new post in the series - A Poem and A Song - IX: A Series to Celebrate Art in All Forms
It is actually quite amazing when you find the same thought being expressed through a picture, a poem, a song, or even a gesture.
Perhaps it happens because the thought has sunk deep into you, at least for the time being, and you just view a certain picture, read a certain poem and hear a certain song as expressions of that singular thought.
Or perhaps they really are conveying the same thought, but in different shades and hues.
And it just so happens that when that very thought captured your attention, certain pictures, poems and songs also appeared before you allowing you to delve deeper into the thought and let it reveal its deeper essence to you.
Regardless of how it happens, it is always a moment to relish and cherish the beauty. The beauty of the picture, the song, the poem. The beauty of the experience. The beauty of the moment.
As to parched lips a running pool;
Sweet when the flowers have fallen asleep
And only moonlit rivulets creep
Like glow-worms in the dim and whispering wood,
To commune with the quiet heart and solitude.
When earth is full of whispers, when
No daily voice is heard of men,
But higher audience brings
The footsteps of invisible things,
When o’er the glimmering tree-tops bowed
The night is leaning on a luminous cloud,
And always a melodious breeze
Sings secret in the weird and charm`ed trees,
Pleasant ’tis then heart-overawed to lie
Alone with that clear moonlight and that listening sky.
Has put the stars out ere the light,
And from their dewy cushions rise
Sweet flowers half-opening their eyes.
O pleasant then to feel as if new-born
The sweet, unripe and virgin air, the air of morn.
And pleasant are her melodies,
Rustle of winds, rustle of trees,
Birds’ voices in the eaves,
Birds’ voices in the green melodious leaves;
The herdsman’s flute among his flocks,
Sweet water hurrying from reluctant rocks,
And all sweet hours and all sweet showers
And all sweet sounds that please the noonday flowers.
Morning has pleasure, noon has golden peace
And afternoon repose and eve the heart’s increase.
- Sri Aurobindo, Songs to Myrtilla
So what is sweeter - night or day? Dawn or dusk? Reality or Reflection?
Perhaps we need both...night to remind us that a new day with a new hope is coming soon, and day to remind us that the time for rest, rejuvenation and renewal is coming soon,
P.S. - This post had been somewhat prepared a couple of days back, only some final touches were remaining. But then something happened in the intervening couple of days and my mind and heart got a bitter taste of some emotions and feelings quite unlike 'sweetness'. I, however, chose to go ahead with this post about sweetness, more so because it will remind me of not to dwell on that which is bitter and ugly. Thus, in a way this post has also become a new addition to the series - Reminders to self
Perhaps in a few days time I will have a greater equanimity within to write about some not-so-sweet aspects of life, and hopefully with a deeper understanding of why such stuff happens!
Previous posts in the series Reminders to self:
Previous posts in the series A Poem and A Song: