A wreath of song threaded have I
For You, the Most Darling.
Yes You will come, and You will smile;
Unrivaled One, You will hold dear.
With light and shadow is Your sport;
Your cosmic drama, on a lyre of thunder.
You launch my bubble's coracle
Like clump of grass upon Your prosody.
In the dramatic flow everyone You set adrift;
But You go on clutching the nature of liila's flavor.
When You are form-free, what is it You wish
From my heart-core? Kindly make clear.
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I don't even know my role in Your cosmic play.
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