In my madness,
I flung my consciousness below,
And it fell towards its untimely death,
Prophesized in buried stone tablets.
And I made butter with my hands
Casting it into the eternal blaze…
Forming progeny of steam,
Reincarnating myself in the embers.
Pouring the seed into the celestial chalice,
With the wailing Nymphs
Pirouetting around the sacred ornaments,
Their bodies are deafening verses.
Our sun dies, and the moon is resurrected,
The starry tomb embraced by creepers,
Come and now rest your head
On the pillow
The Goddess and the Deity are reunited…
But hidden now in the wilderness is the garland,
The bhang has been consumed,
As the ittar wanders on through the streets,
And I practice asceticism.
To find the answer,
I stand now….one-legged and alone
Amongst the calm sea,
As the world collapses.
And the heart drowns.