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Leaves Of Grass

Walt Whitman the author of Leaves Of Grass seems to be a very courageous and rebellious too, although not very sure where he is heading….throwing arrows in the dark….and surprisingly some arrows have been thrown at the right place.

This is what wee see all the time even a film song which touches the heart of millions has something of god in it, otherwise there is no way that song can be recognized or appreciated and same goes with the song which is not appreciated however high caliber it seems to be showing but if its not touching the heart then there is some problem with it…most probably the problem is of the ego. When you create just create without having the thought whether it will be appreciated or not….when you just create for yourself…out of joy…out of your love…..then the real creativity happens.

Osho says that Walt Whitman had the potential of Rishi in him….he said many things in his poem but the real experience was lacking, he is the only American [Osho says] which he appreciate, many times he touches the sky but comes back…

He has talked about so many things in his poetry, his ego disappears and something beautiful comes up…in spite of him…so there are glimpses of unknown presence in his book.

Something from his book…..

“A child said what is grass?

Fetching it to me with full hands;

How could I answer the child?

I do not know what it is any more than he”

Eventually every great author comes to a point of nothingness…where he doesn’t really know…when the mind is broken and you have flied beyond it….

A poem inspired from his book….




“O Stranger!”

O stranger passing by…

You do not know how lovingly I look at you…

You must be he I was seeking, or she I was seeking

You gave me something invisible

Something of the heart…

You transpire something in my being

Your eyes remind me something of the beyond

With you o stranger words are not required

Our silence will communicate…

Our eyes will communicate…

Our feelings will communicate…

I have some when surely lived a life of joy with you,

I am not to speak to you,

I am to think of you when I sit alone or wake at night alone

I am to wait, I do now doubt

I am to meet you again,

I am to see to it that I do not lose you.

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