Nothing was said,
Nothing was paid,
A hung suspends!
...
The tubs set with dreamy faces,
In daily lore of petrol
To fuel hope, delude substance,
And suck the treasure house.
...
The springs of human cadence,
Step by step unfolds in your lyre,
The frenzy ecstasy of divine fire,
Sets symphony of the dual on the non-dual.
...
No chains did he share,
With thousand chains there,
A loin cloth, two breads,
Under the sky-bare.
...
From some cultivated lone,
Springs the image of the remotest rare,
Of placid abstract.
...
That's the divine glow,
Finds a flow
In your cultivated devotion,
And sets an impelling motion
...
If you could not love me well,
Why did you ring my conscience's bell?
If you could not love me well.
...
In an art gallery,
The tapestry of brush -soaked paper hang,
Judges buzz, with stories sung.
...
I know, I know,
No marathon we would go,
No birds of paired wings,
We ever flee and sing.
...