Mother Divine, whom I see in the quickly darkening grey of the clouds; Mother, whom I find in the faint brightness that peeps from in-between the clouds; Mother, whom I see in the shimmering city lights, in the steady glow of the bright palace lights, in the flash of lightning that illuminates the dark waters of the lake; I see your many colors in the golden dawns, in the blue of the sparkling waters, in the many-hued lights afar, in the purple reds of the sunsets, in the slate greys of the evenings, in the dark of the nights, in the white of the lightning bolts, in the greens all around, in the pearly smiles and laughter of people, in the kohl smeared tears.
I see you in the isolation of the island, in the crowds of the city streets; I hear you in the peals of the temple bells, in the Maghrib sung from the distant mosque; I sense you in the life urge of men and women as they return to their homes tired from a day’s work, in the death urge of the moths that are attracted to the flame; I feel you in the pain that wrings my soul and in the breeze that teases my senses.
Grant me, Mother, that I may never lose my Faith in you.
Written on August 2010. (the patio of the Noor-Us-Sabah palace, Bhopal. Heaven)
