Where the sky is touching sea,
At an ocean of light-beams,
On that same horizon, that same frontier,
Lord, Yourself I seek.
I know there's not a blue-sky terminus,
And so with sea there is no touch.
But foolishly I go on thinking wrong
Time after time, even knowingly.
Mid the core of heart You are there,
On a formless litter in form's clothing.
Ringing out in the whole heart are strings
In a jangle that is Yours only,
Yourself always surrounding.
Sarkarverse article
Audio recording
My thoughts of You might make no sense; my efforts to attain You might be awry. But anywhere You are concerned, even a most moronic heart will rule the mind.
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