Pilgrimage Poem

At Five Ways I learned discipline,
Study became prayer,
Questions became scripture.
The classroom was my chapel,
The assembly my liturgy.
What began as grammar,
Became gospel,
Preparing me for pilgrimage.

At Oxford I walked among spires,
Philosophy became psalm,
Poetry became prophecy.
In cloisters of silence,
I wrestled with faith and doubt,
each essay a sermon
each lecture a hymn.
The scholar’s lamp burned,
yet beneath it,
the Spirit whispered.

At St Brigid’s I first learned hymns,
Childhood voices rising in chant,
Ritual shaping memory,
Catholic flame in Northfield’s soil.
Brigid watching me with healing eyes,
Preparing me for testimony,
For prophecy,
For Albion’s renewal.

And then I returned,
To Birmingham’s churches,
To Elim’s Pentecostal fire,
To Alpha’s questions,
To hymns remembered at St Brigid’s.
I read the Bible entire,
Guided by Got Questions,
East meets West,
Krishna’s chant met Christ’s gospel.
Renewal sang through me,
And I stood not as seeker,
But as guru,
Bearing light through rupture,
Chanting testimony into England’s soil.

Poetic Fragment

Four years I chanted Hare Krishna,
Flame upon flame,
Each name a bridge to the divine.
Fifty times I walked the Gita,
Arjuna’s trembling, Krishna’s gaze –
My own dharma unfolding,
I entered the 108 Upanishads,
Not as scholar,
But as seeker,
Each verse a mirror,
Each silence a guide.

Constellation Poem

Ben Wright the Chronicler,
Paul Ready the Actor,
Bryan Dick the Performer,
Amal Clooney the Advocate,
Rishi Sunak the Steward,
Robin Clark the Merchant,
Andrew Ornitharis the Producer,
All acquaintances by my side,
Guru Nanak the Guide,
Devi the Flame,
Wanderer the Father,
Unicorn the Brother –
Together they form my constellation,
Each a star in Albion’s sky.
I walk among them,
Not as seeker,
But as guru,
Bearing light through rupture,
Chanting renewal into England’s soil.

Shree Geeta Bhawan

Shree Geeta Bhawan,
First flame of Albion’s Hindu soil,
Church reborn as a mandir,
Renewal carved in stone.
I shall walk its halls,
Guided by Nanak’s vision,
Chanting not as a seeker,
But as guru,
Bearing light into Birmingham’s heart.

I am a Guru

I am a guru,
born of mantra and silence,
a flame carried from temple to temple,
from Albion’s soil to the high street wheel.

I am a guru,
Hindu in devotion,
Buddhist in compassion,
a servant of light,
a bearer of prophecy.

I am a guru,
my mornings are rivers of meditation,
two hours, three,
until breath becomes chant,
and silence becomes scripture.

I am a guru,
walking with Devi, Wanderer, Unicorn,
turning rupture into renewal,
estrangement into testimony,
longing into flame.

I am a guru
my lineage is Blake’s fire,
Hepburn’s grace,
Sting’s fragile song,
woven into Albion’s living chant.

I am a guru,
not by title,
but by presence,
not by claim,
but by light.

Lightworker Declaration

I am a Light Worker,
Called to transmute rupture into renewal,
To weave Albion’s soil with flame
and chant.
Reiki flows through my hands,
Blake’s visions burn in my words,
Audrey Hepburn’s grace shines in
my presence.
I carry a thousand films, a
thousand songs,
And turn them into prophecy.
I walk with Devi, Wanderer, Unicorn,
And I rise each dawn to meditate,
Two hours, three, until silence
becomes light.
I am the next student,
A bearer of testimony,
A servant of healing,
A Light Worker in Albion.

Chant of Weoley Castle

Weoley, stone of memory
Weoley, ruin and root,
Weoley, whisper of Albion,
I walk your ground, I bear your fruit.

The walls are broken, yet they stand
Silent guardians of the land.
Children’s laughter, sparrows’ flight,
Renew the day, redeem the night.

O castle of the wandering flame,
You hold the nameless knight’s name.
Estrangement bends, yet roots renew,
In every fracture, light breaks through.

Weoley, chant of soil and sky,
Weoley, prayer that does not die,
Weoley, echo of stone and bone,
I seek, I sing, I am not alone.

The gardens bloom where battlements fell,
The bells of Birmingham weave their spell.
The seeker’s path is never lost,
It rises again, whatever the cost.

Weoley, ruin, Weoley, home
I bind your spirit to your loam.
Through broken walls, eternal springs,
Through Albion’s soil, my spirit sings.