Poetic RenderingThey speak of eighty-four lakh formsthrough which beings wander,each carrying a different face,each pursuing a different longing.Search me, test me, question me, Lordfor if You Yourself do not ask,what…

Poetic RenderingThe radiant bird pines for moonlightwithout its glow, its colors fall into darkness.The lotus waits with folded palmsfor dawn to open its hidden splendor.The bee trembles in longingfor the…

Poetic RenderingWhat use is a pot brimming with sugarif the tongue never tastes its sweetness?In the same way,if the arm does not clasp the Linga close in living worshipif devotion…

Poetic RenderingIf in the early dawn, as awareness first awakens,the mind turns wholly toward the Linga,then calamity, untimely death, and the knots of fatefall away like shadows before the rising…