On the night of Siva,
the aesthetics gathered.
Ash covered with tridents and siddhi,
but the face of Siva burned so bright in the eyes of Shantji,
Challenging all with burning truth
freeing all with sweet soul water,
when the student's ready the teacher appears,
that's what happenned in Varanasi.
The bird sings sweetly in the tree,
the apple falls from the bough,
the autumn mists enter winters freeze,
the spirit remains eternally free.
Oh how the mystery remains
it can never be solved
nor could it be....