After Illusion, the Truth

 

By Jasmina Khatun 

 

 

In the silent chill of dawn, I awaken—

not to the light outside,

but to the darkness within my own being.

I dig through the soil of my soul,

descend deep inside myself—

so quietly, so carefully.

There, time does not exist,

nor body—only a current of consciousness,

flowing like breath.

There, you are absent—

yet in that very absence,

you are everywhere,

drifting through my voiceless essence

like a soundless echo.

Then within me, you had no form—

there was only an ineffable radiance,

in whose glow I recognized my own self.

Truth was never false—

truth itself was the very core

of all illusion.

Yet I sowed the seeds of maya—

of touch, of sorrow, of bond—

for without the taste of illusion,

one cannot perceive the Brahman,

cannot realize the Truth.

You sowed thorns in the sands of Sahara—

such a burning path!

Upon it, my feet grew torn and wounded,

and in the silent mirror of the Nile’s water,

I saw—

every thorn had become Brahman,

every thorn had blossomed into a flower.

In the fragrance of those flowers,

I cleanse my soul.

Illusion melts away,

forms dissolve—

only one undivided Truth remains:

You, I, and that Consciousness—

one and the same.

Then I understand—

Life is not awakening;

awakening itself is life.

Earth, water, air, and sky

all breathe within me;

and I, like a silent Upanishad,

read myself.

Reading and rereading so deeply,

I find myself again and again

playing barefoot in the Sahara—

the desert you gifted me.

For just as you love me,

so too, equally,

do I love you.