Tonight my heart’s fire rages; nothing to do
but throw myself in the river flowing at my Beloved’s feet.
Once, I drifted free as a ghost. Now I am rooted in holy soil
like the banyan trees on the path to my Beloved’s door.
Under a dormant sky, the restless ocean heaves and sighs.
How can the gulls, darting here and there, ever fathom its
depths?
Windows of a long-shuttered room have been thrown open –
to fresh air and sunlight, music and laughter . . . .
Important people of the world, sleep on – moving about
in your dreams; jabbing the air with your fingers.
The mandali are giving out holy prasad. Those old bodies
remind me of abandoned houses the winds blow through.
O child of God, your heart resides within His heart;
wherever your willfulness leads, remember, the Beloved
goes with
you.
(from The Garden of Surrender, 2004)
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