As I salute you, my God,
invisible, immortal and un-nameable,
let my senses spread
to touch this world, your foot-stool.
Like a July rain-cloud so low, unshed showers,
let my mind bend to greet you at your door
with my songs of diverse strains threaded in a single
current, and flow into you, a sea of silence.
Like a flock of cranes flying
night and day to their mountain nests
let my life journey into you, my home
that is eternal, and my love.
Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 103
Henry Victor 09.11.2012
No comments:
Post a Comment