Three garlands

Three garlands                                                                            
 
Each morning now I climb the Hill; offering
three strings of rose-scented prayers,
 
standing just northeast of Infinity
with a view of Your lying-down darshan;
 
lift my eyes to wonder at the vaulted structure
under which I pray –
 
the muscular, veined roof
of the cavern of my heart;
 
Your sun, also, rising over my shoulder,
my heart's walls turning translucent,
 
thinner and thinner like beaten gold
to one day burst and flood
 
the parched valley below.
Each morning I awaken in Maya,
 
climb this Hill, wherever I am,
garlands pressed to my chest,
 
delivering to the stone divan
of Your lying-down darshan,
 
three garlands – the rose-scented passages
of Your everyday, holy prayers.
 
O child of God, you dream of India.
The Samadhi's path begins at the doorsteps
      of your own heart's abode.

                           (from A Jewel in the Dust, 2011)