what beauty, what grace
such innocent guile interlaced
with life and spirit
a potent mixture
all alive
his gaze on human fixtures
robed in white
clad in the armour
of knowing-upright
a stillness no wind can stir
a stillness that runs so deep
that one may as well forget to weep
filled with waves of joy
so real , so profound
if only love could make a sound
it would erupt in a blissful symphony
so myriad, so deep, so bright and sunny
what a gaze he has
that mighty being
what dignity he wears
of discipline-his bearing
so quiet like nature at work
busy making those elegant quirks
of that which binds us creatures that talk
who knows where he leads us
where the one-brahman walks
as he parts those gilded veils
of creation, what a dream
he wakes you up to tell you
everything may not be as it seems
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