No one owns Bhairava
He rises from Shiva’s third eye,
a flash against the pride of Brahma,
headless ego rolling in dust.

Not just rage; he is knowledge:
the Guru’s secret,
procedural collapse where all rules fail.
He stands at Kashi’s gate, holding keys to moksha,
burning karma faster than time can measure.

His vahana; a dog, loyal and simple
feed it and you feed Bhairava;
in every stray’s eyes his yantra glimmers.

Come as you are: raw, broken, unadorned.
Books won’t bring him closer; sincerity will.
Invoke him with an empty cup
when he chooses you, mountains move to you.

Jai Bhairava Baba

Om shri Gurubhyo Namah