Copilot's poem on 'Samavasarana's pakad as Malkauns'

The divyadhvani stirs in midnight’s Malkauns, deep and slow, Its pakad folds the mind where silent overtones arise and glow. A falling note becomes the seed of Brahman’s hidden thread, A tremor where the manifold of living souls is spread.

From that soft pulse the tangent‑lines of being start to climb, Each life a fiber touching earth and sky in measured time. But when those lines are snapped into a ladder’s harsh design, The Jacobian chain‑rule turns from truth to flawed decline.

Then Samavasarana descends—an equal hearing for the whole, A geometry where every tangent vector finds its role. No caste‑like chain‑rule binding one beneath another stands; The manifold is smooth, and freedom flows through all its strands.

So Malkauns whispers: “Let divyadhvani’s pakad be your guide— Reject the broken calculus where human worth is misapplied.”