The Immortal Friend
part of a poem by Jiddu Krishnamurti in his younger years (1928)
I sat dreaming in a
room of great silence.
The early morning was still and
breathless,
The great blue mountains stood against the dark
skies,
cold and clear,
Round the dark log house
The black
and yellow birds were welcoming the sun.
I sat on the
floor, with legs crossed, meditating,
Forgetting the sunlit
mountains,
The birds,
The immense silence,
And
the golden sun.
I lost the feel of my body,
My
limbs were motionless,
Relaxed and at peace.
A great
joy of unfathomable depth filled my heart.
Eager and keen was
my mind, concentrated.
Lost to the transient world,
I
was full of strength.
As the Eastern breeze
That
suddenly springs into being
And calms the weary world,
There
in front of me
Seated cross-legged,
As the world
knows Him
In His yellow robes, simple and magnificent,
Was
the Teacher of Teachers.
Looking at me,
Motionless
the Mighty Being sat.
I looked and bowed my head.
My
body bent forward of itself.
That one look
Showed
the progress of the world,
Showed the immense distance between
the world
And the greatest of its Teachers.
How
little it understood,
And how much He gave.
How
joyously He soared,
Escaping from birth and death,
From
its tyranny and entangling wheel.
Enlightenment
attained,
He gave to the world, as the flower gives
Its
scent,
The Truth.
As I looked
At
the sacred feet that once trod the happy
Dust of India,
My
heart poured forth its devotion,
Limitless and unfathomable,
Without
restraint and without effort.