Golden and molten you soar,
then merge with the ocean once more.
The sun has set, we say, and yet
it rises on another shore.
Still, tears well up in our eyes
as we face darkening skies,
for what can we know of afterglow
or a billion stars on the rise?
Grace takes such shapes...
Who can count the twists and turns?
We have our own orbits too,
sometimes erratic, but true.
I trust the force that's guiding yours
for that's the force that brought me you.
These forms we call you and me
are only the surface we see.
And though Love came,
wearing your name,
it's omnipresent now and free.
Grace takes such shapes...
Who can know the mind of God.
Ekam, nityam, vimalam achalam.
(The one, pure, eternal, unmoving presence)
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