The Big Men of ancient times
transmuted it.
To their head.
Gandhi practiced it.
Osho, in his own way.
Fascinating, this energy.
Berserk, mostly.
You must have felt it,
Intermittently.
In times of a pressing deadline.
Or the rush of a big idea.
Engulfs you. Immense.
And, why not.
It reproduces our kind.
Mysterious, shadowed in enigma.
There and yet not.
Tight rope, this.
Gandhi said, reigning it within
the body is not enough.
The mind must accompany.
Else, insanity it brings.
I, I get drawn,
to bosoms and posteriors.
And pretty faces too.
Transmutation, is not
the road for every.
It requires life to move
from the bottom-up.
Anti-gravity.
A function of determination,
will and infinite power.
Few have the willingness
to generate.
Which is why
The Big Men, I respect.
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