A flower that struts its pale bloom or drips vibrant with pouting lips, the bird that sings with its soul perched within its throat, how we strive to hold their beauty to our hearts. But despite our impassioned senses or perhaps because of them, how despairingly we fall short of gleaning the true divinity within that pale blossom and that song that thrills.

I find that after a few moments, I have to look away because I am unable to take it in. It becomes incomprehensible, overwhelming. That rather miniscule drop of divinity that I presume to be within me responds to that beauty. But the rest, the undiscerning and abjectly blind human, shies away from it.

It has to be taken in tiny sips, tiny and sweet and fragrant, that suffuse the mind and lull it into a slow languorous state of grace. The way a drop of ink bursts upon water, the blush and the marigold, the verdant and the azure burst upon the liquid mind and seep into the soul, curling curling their painted fingers around one’s heart. I have to close my eyes for fear of drowning. And yet it is not enough. ‘ere my eyes have closed, they fly open again to drink in some more of this riotous madness of spring that dances madly, profusely upon my drunken vision and puts me in the propinquity of all that is divine.

6 thoughts on “Profusion.

  1. The title is perfect! And so is your reflection in such lyrical recognition of the divinity that surrounds us, for feasting our eyes, and drawing our breath, and overwhelming our senses, that though it is beyond the human experience we need to know–to feel–we are connected to it.

    Quite beautiful in words and pictures!

    • Thank you so much!!! I feel so blessed that I could put into words what I was feeling because it simply had to be shared. It was such a sublime moment, I could not bear it alone. 🙂

  2. What an exquisite piece of poetic writing, dear Rama. You have captured that overwhelming power in nature’s beauty that puts us in such awe that we can be deprived of speech, of sense, of strength–but only momentarily. Then begins the welling up of all those things again, as you yourself say so perfectly, in Profusion. Marvelous, gorgeous post.

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