Not washed  but forged

Poetic Rendering

A horse washed clean
still rolls in dust
so does this body return to its stains.
This mind, thick like wool,
holds fast the dirt it would cast away.
Only when You breathe through it
does light begin to flow.
Not water,
not ritual cleansing
only Your fire purifies.
Forge me, Koodalasangamadeva,
and let me shine like tested gold.

Spiritual Context

Interpretation

The Cosmic Reality

Shatsthala

Practical Integration

Modern Application

Essence

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