The Golden Temple Of The Heart
THE GOLDEN TEMPLE OF THE HEART
In piety I approach the Golden Temple,
Many have garnesh’s, lotus and money,
Paying respects,
Offering to higher prospects,
As thousands walk the winding path
to admire the Golden Temple,
And believe.
It is the journey not the destination that matters,
For I see the light in the faces,
The gold is the alchemy of transformation,
For the temple rises as a metaphor,
An inner call,
For we are transforming from fear to love,
And this is the real gold that cannot be fooled,
As the fool’s gold tricks us to go for gold,
Rather than being good as gold,
And this is the real precious metal,
That sustain the virtuous throughout life.
I approach the gold encrusted temple,
I think of the poor outside dusted,
I think of the poor inside rusted,
I think of those seeking the silk road,
And those seeking the side road,
Sometimes it may appear dusty and dirty,
You may feel you took the wrong path,
As the poor man may appear as a beggar,
But he is your conscience arriving in another guise,
Her disguise inspires vice or virtue,
For I saw her today,
I chose the fool’s gold over humanity in a crowded moment,
I didn’t give the rupee to alleviate hunger but sought the cloth cut from greed,
I ask myself ‘does the cloth maketh the man or women?’,
Gandhi came to me and whispered
‘There is no beauty in the finest cloth if it makes hunger and unhappiness’,
And I am a clown my life is about happiness,
I saw my reflection in the golden pond,
The ripples of tears emanated out,
My decisions from the inside out,
I knew I had the fools gold in-sight,
My heart in that moment was sold,
for the lowest plight,
Fashion over compassion,
In my heart it was not right.
We paid more to take the fast lane to enlightenment,
For there is first class and second class,
And money is the priviledge
poverty lags behind,
Yet as I looked into the pond of my reflection,
I felt the rain dropping,
Like tears of shame in my heart,
For we come from a world paved with gold,
Yet unaware of the inequality causing such suffering,
For I do not wish to partake in the spoils,
As our earth is despoiled,
I am recoiling from the vanity of wealth,
In favour of the highest inner wealth,
Ringing my bells for…
Compassion,
Love,
Authenticity,
Humility,
As I feel myself surrender to the true beauty in my heart,
Calling me to step back and look at the gold within,
To watch and not speak,
To wait and not run,
To reflect and not know,
To face and not recoil,
For the serpent of wisdom,
Whispers to find the kingdom,
In truth.
I see the divine essence in every face,
So warm and welcoming,
So curious and kind,
The indus civilisation has a great gentleness,
Humility so sublime,
For many scrape out a living,
Sharing a pie that is shrinking,
A society that is dividing,
A nouveau rich arising,
As fame and fortune are the diamonds
with many faces,
Yet few reach the pinnacle,
As they pray for miracles,
Spirituality always follows suffering,
And the bindi is a remembering of the third eye,
For when one goes for the inner gold,
One can see without looking,
As the real world opens to those who find the essence,
in stillness.