Sandhya

"Neither wealth, nor followers, nor beautiful poetry do I desire, O Lord. In birth after birth, may I have causeless devotion to You."

— Chaitanya Mahaprabhu, Siksastakam

I've been sat here for who knows how long
Sore eyes, aching throat and tissues that could count lost time.
Friendless, choked on my own life.
This is my shrine of loneliness,
Where every day is one moment
Stilled, persistent, imminent.
So burns the cigarette, ash to the label,
Taking with it all but memories of your best.
This is the tomb of my innocence.
They said "everything is transient",
Yet I fight the Lord with weapons of vain intellect.
But the sun does not argue.
It leans through the glass, that particular gold,
and lights the dust like a hundred small flames.
Somewhere a mother still lights a candle,
And a child believes the night will come gentle
Because Ma prayed for it to.

Ma!
Quiet.
Lighter breath.
Let this moment be eternal too.