When at child it is He.
When at teen it is he.
When at twenty it is only to make up mind.
When forty, devotion blended into all kind.
When it grows, all of them find blows.
All the superlatives annoy in the lows.
And at the end the divine speaks and devotion flows.
2nd Jan2009
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
each step each stage each experience pushes us millimtre by millimetre to finally to find one's truth...in all devotion...