15 January 2015

Who knows when the hand of heaven will beckon?

No day shall return,
Yet the dawn lives
In every moment.

To the land without borders we go,
Ceaseless is the flow.

All these wonders
Are only trinkets,
But I have gathered them for You.

And if my life is a garland,
The weaver is the woven,
No other thing is so.

for Noivedya

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