Lit From Within
These poems mostly obey the old rules: they rhyme, they scan, Most of them are Shakespearean style sonnets. they are in iambic pentameter, and rhyme.Those that are longer are also in iambic pentameter, relationship with the Divine within.The subject of the collection is the nature of the soul's Who can do justice to that?
None of us, not really,
But I thought I'd try.'
by Ruth Lewarne
I was moved to write these poems to celebrate my 40 years as a student
of Prem Rawat, occasionally known as Maharaji, to whom I owe a debt of
gratitude that I could never repay - not that I need to. He showed me the
source of Love and the means to experience it, which he calls 'receiving
Knowledge', and I have practised going within and enjoying the fruit of this
Knowledge most of my life.
I wanted to use the most famous form used by our great poets in Europe,
the sonnet, since wonderful poetry from the East on this subject, like that of
Rumi, Omar Khayyam and Kabir has to be translated from the original language
into English.
There are excellent translations of these poets' work, and one can even
buy multiple translations to get a full flavour of what is being said. But some
are literal, and some take extraordinary liberties with the original (see
Fitzgerald's Khayyam compared to Avery/Heath-Stubbs.)
Sometimes the original is so powerful that versions may stray far from
the text and yet remain profound works of art. The thought behind them
transcends barriers of language.
It is clear that some of the great poets and writers of scripture were
fortunate enough to be students of teachers who connected them to the world
within. My teacher deserves similarly gifted poets to sing his praises. I do
not lay claim to ability of that kind, and if any of my poetry pleases, it is
with the help and inspiration of Prem Rawat.
Sample...
You are
Like the heartbeat of a huge star
Like a thousand silent lightning flashes
Like a wind through heaven
Carrying light
On pulsing waves of stillness
Like night
Soft footed, slow
Like fullness
Like the quietness of breath
Like a journey towards home
Where there is peace
Where the traveller rests
And there is no time
No ticking clock
No ending
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