Buddhi Man

To the Savant

The towering obelisk
breaks through the pall of smog.
In his tiny eyrie atop the needle
the Savant , eyes on fire ,
crouches over the glittering crystal.
The crackle of the ether
through his earphones -
music more exquisite than
the divine song of the stars.

On the dais
in the darkened theatre
the marigold plant stands
pinioned in the blaze .
The single bloom on its crown-
a golden blaze in the beam of white.
On a sudden ,
frantic flickers race across
the screen to the side,
as raw ,elemental passions
surge through the plant,
staked on its own Calvary ..

...The Temple of Learning-

vast , ochre ,saracen -arched corridors
receding into swirling mists,
run past deep, dark pools
strewn with myriad lotus blooms-
their petals unfolding
into the strange , ethereal radiance .

At its very heart -

rapt , beneath the Shrine
to His all- puissant Creator,
the Savant ,
his Being fast flooding with Light,
poises to take that final leap ,
into the stars.

...The world knew him not.
His own
turn their backs on him-
dancing in depraved frenzy
before gilded calves

..The images linger ...

of his gentle , white -haired lady
cuddling you , the infant,
lavishing you with all the love-
only a mother can give .
A love that lay pent up
for a lifetime
within her breast.

Was it perhaps
because she saw in you
the child she never had �
stillborn ,in that hoary past,
in order that she might live�