Gods own country, A Story from the leaves to the wheels.
In the beginning me and my people were naked(1)
We were free in Gods' own country.
Leaves of many seasons showered colors on us
those colors never tried to blind us.
Some say it is the fruit of the thinking
some say it is the venom of the snake
That beamed us with senses and perceptions
beyond what we could see or taste.
Some even say it may be the fallen leaves
stirred our emotions and decorated our skins. (2)
Shilly-shallied our land and the mountain bridged the gap.
The mountain grew in size and bonded us with the mainland.
Still protecting us from the sand storm of the other side. (3)
Maveli, that was our king's name. (4)
The king of a pure heart
the king of the beautiful mountain valley.
We called us the divine and benevolent Asuras
we shared the land with each other and with our king. (5)
No one fell under anyone
no one walked away from anyone. (6)
People lived in peace with nature and with each other.
Some say it is because we never played with the wheel
some say it is because we even know about the wheel. (7)
Trees and flowers decorated our land of many rivers. (8)
We build pillars in knowledge
poured verses of past and future among each one of us.
We walked along those river banks
in the angelic glimmer of our towering awareness. (9)
Then came the wheel, and many along
along came a few impatient and unkind.
Some called him Indra
some whispered he carried a sand storm
and the strength from another side of our mountain. (10)
They brought bricks of many colors
they destroyed our towers
built a few from the rubble and the colored bricks. (11)
No one knew where Maveli went
some say he left the crown to a lesser one
some say the destroyer of the cities buried him. (12)
Many believed he left in pain
panning the plan for a new town.
A city of towers but with no angelic light on the streets
a land where benevolent Asuras wandered
behind the walls of many-colored bricks (13)
The layered walls stifled our minds
the blocks of colors locked social bodies.
Our children no longer see the verses
they lost the sight of past and future
we walked behind shrubs and fences
while time progressed
while the wheels roared. (14)
Once in a while, we met a few very kind ones
but never our king of pure heart, Maveli.
Avatars of kindness had many names
Budha of Maya, Yeshu of Marya, Krishna of Yashoda
mystics lulled us with songs and stories.
the colored fences, bricks remained the same. (15)
In our distant memory lived the rivers of pure drops
in our sweats drenched the flowers for the ritual
our eyes searched for the kindest king
our eyes looked for the one with a pure heart.
Our land of spices brought many boats of men
seekers of black peppercorns arrived with a book
they descended with the black powder of fire.
Somehow that powder became the power
and many wheels shared that power. (16)
The time powered many kings and commoners
among them are a few kind ones
who hid their swords shed their cuts
to break barriers of color and labor.
Some came with a turban, some with glasses
and even called us the people of God.
Some gave us new idols from the river (17)
verses and books of black letters
string with beads of repetitions
even the tricks to build the wheel. (18)
The time painted many shades upon us
shades of new flags, new clock towers
phrases of the blind lady who carried the scale.
A few broke the towers and fences
a few built new pillars and walls
others painted old books and barriers with new colors. (19)
People revolved around neon lights
maybe the same old glimmer in a new glass.
We cheered for the beams from the colored boxes
even blinded by the snakes of politricks.
Now we are struggling to discern Sura and Asura.
Insidious Indras hid behind a labyrinth of sandstorms
veiled Vamanas, still looking for a head to climb up. (20)
The doubtful waited for a touch of clarity
is there a supreme human of a pure heart?
or the fables furnishing us in dreams?
Still, a few await for the kindest king.
the one with a pure heart. (21)
-------End----------
A brief explanation of this story can be seen here : https://www.murmursofvitraya.life/2019/06/behind-scenes-gods-own-country-story.html
We were free in Gods' own country.
Leaves of many seasons showered colors on us
those colors never tried to blind us.
Some say it is the fruit of the thinking
some say it is the venom of the snake
That beamed us with senses and perceptions
beyond what we could see or taste.
Some even say it may be the fallen leaves
stirred our emotions and decorated our skins. (2)
The mountain grew in size and bonded us with the mainland.
Still protecting us from the sand storm of the other side. (3)
Maveli, that was our king's name. (4)
The king of a pure heart
the king of the beautiful mountain valley.
We called us the divine and benevolent Asuras
we shared the land with each other and with our king. (5)
No one fell under anyone
no one walked away from anyone. (6)
People lived in peace with nature and with each other.
Some say it is because we never played with the wheel
some say it is because we even know about the wheel. (7)
Trees and flowers decorated our land of many rivers. (8)
We build pillars in knowledge
poured verses of past and future among each one of us.
We walked along those river banks
in the angelic glimmer of our towering awareness. (9)
along came a few impatient and unkind.
Some called him Indra
some whispered he carried a sand storm
and the strength from another side of our mountain. (10)
They brought bricks of many colors
they destroyed our towers
built a few from the rubble and the colored bricks. (11)
No one knew where Maveli went
some say he left the crown to a lesser one
some say the destroyer of the cities buried him. (12)
Many believed he left in pain
panning the plan for a new town.
A city of towers but with no angelic light on the streets
a land where benevolent Asuras wandered
behind the walls of many-colored bricks (13)
The layered walls stifled our minds
the blocks of colors locked social bodies.
Our children no longer see the verses
they lost the sight of past and future
we walked behind shrubs and fences
while time progressed
while the wheels roared. (14)
but never our king of pure heart, Maveli.
Avatars of kindness had many names
Budha of Maya, Yeshu of Marya, Krishna of Yashoda
mystics lulled us with songs and stories.
the colored fences, bricks remained the same. (15)
In our distant memory lived the rivers of pure drops
in our sweats drenched the flowers for the ritual
our eyes searched for the kindest king
our eyes looked for the one with a pure heart.
Our land of spices brought many boats of men
seekers of black peppercorns arrived with a book
they descended with the black powder of fire.
Somehow that powder became the power
and many wheels shared that power. (16)
The time powered many kings and commoners
among them are a few kind ones
who hid their swords shed their cuts
to break barriers of color and labor.
Some came with a turban, some with glasses
and even called us the people of God.
Some gave us new idols from the river (17)
verses and books of black letters
string with beads of repetitions
even the tricks to build the wheel. (18)
shades of new flags, new clock towers
phrases of the blind lady who carried the scale.
A few broke the towers and fences
a few built new pillars and walls
others painted old books and barriers with new colors. (19)
People revolved around neon lights
maybe the same old glimmer in a new glass.
We cheered for the beams from the colored boxes
even blinded by the snakes of politricks.
Now we are struggling to discern Sura and Asura.
Insidious Indras hid behind a labyrinth of sandstorms
veiled Vamanas, still looking for a head to climb up. (20)
The doubtful waited for a touch of clarity
is there a supreme human of a pure heart?
or the fables furnishing us in dreams?
Still, a few await for the kindest king.
the one with a pure heart. (21)
A brief explanation of this story can be seen here : https://www.murmursofvitraya.life/2019/06/behind-scenes-gods-own-country-story.html
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