Wield Thy Weapon of Wisdom! - A poem of prayer to Ramana Maharshi

This poem is a plea to Bhagavan Ramana in the form of the Arunachala Hill in a mood of surrender to do away with the false ‘I’, or the little ‘I.’

It is written, inspired by the talks of Brahma Sri Nochur Venkataraman on ‘Ulladhu Naarpadhu’ of Ramana Bhagavan, verse 2. Here he exposes one to a broader dimension of the ‘Fear of death’, by extending it to the changes that are constant in one’s life and not merely the death of the body. If we reflect our actions are towards steadying ourselves in order to encounter changes in future, the results of which are not in our control.

There is a fear of flux starting from our own body, mind, relationships, status, prospects, fortune etc. Therefore, death is immanent in everything and a way of transcending it as per Ramana’s words is to surrender the false identity for which these changes are apparent. Furthermore, the plea is to beseech Bhagavan to hasten the process, for the fear of being entangled in any forthcoming pleasure, which also carries the seeds of change. It is a prayer to bestow the state of equanimity in the face of pleasure and pain.

One then abides in the true Self or reality which is untouched by changes.

Wield Thy Weapon of Wisdom!

When the head drops low in a bow,

Wield Thy weapon of wisdom in a trice,

Strike the hood of the serpent ego,

Before another rise.

With shadows of death lurking around,

With uncertainty in all earthly claims,

Certainty is but Thy ground,

Hence, claim me with Thy aim.

Seeing death, hearing death, rather living death,

With death reigning high,

Breathing death in every breath

Deathless One, pray sever the ego knot in the tie.

Every dusk sees a dawn

With streaks of death in the relative sky,

Quick to it I am drawn, so wield Thy wisdom weapon,

For once for all to die.

Kill the ego with surrender you said,

None but Thou cast the state in me,

Blazing wisdom, Arunachala red,

Come claim Thy Kill that I be.

Thy weapon of wisdom is of love,

With death dead in Thy embrace,

With no trace of the little ‘I’ left

And all that remains is but Grace!

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