Touch from Within

He, the innermost one, awakens my being
with his touch, planting his enchantment
on my eyes, playing the chords of my heart
in varied pulse of pleasure and pain.

He weaves this web of maya, delusion
in shades of gold, silver, blue and green
and let it peeps through folds of his feet
at whose touch I also forget myself.

Days come and ages pass
and it is he who moves my heart
in many names, in many guises,
in many raptures of joy and of sorrow.

Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 72

Henry Victor          14.10.2012