Petition

Lonely, I press my face to the glass;
Outside pounds Your Ocean of Mercy.
From here, the Pearls are hidden,
So, I close my eyes to see the better ……….
Now, within my gaze, twelve thousand miles into the Sun.
Is an acre of Your children, humbly seated for Your darshan.
You come out, Your Lotus Feet stepping
To the beat of my heart,
Your Lotus Eyes loving Your Own.
Your Left Hand soon fills with square white Hopes;
Your Right explores the air;
Has my Yearning reached a Lotus Fingertip?
Wait, Little Good Sai, Wait for me.
Quiet temple within, I fight through my quasi world,
Struggling to return to Your Holy Orange Peace;
Ultra—marine, ultra—montane, You are,
And I so far, but no longer Lost;
The needle of my Compass never wavers;
Your Divinity beams blessings
Into the purblind mist of my narrow night.
True, You inhabit my heart;
You move me in that murky place,
But I perish for Your presence; so, wait, Lord of Love,
Just a little.

Advent of the Infinite

One November, in a village, isolated and remote,
Lay a Baby, Jay a Kingling, lay a Godlet, newly born;
Neath His blanket coiled a Cobra, the tamboura struck a note,
Which the maddala accompanied, so auspicious was that morn.
Came the neighbors to admire Him, stayed the neighbors to adore,
For the Infant had a Power in His Crown of Curly Hair,
And a warmth to challenge Sunlight curved the Smile the Godling wore,
So, unknowing His Divineness, yet the neighbors lingered there.
Little knew they in this dwelling crouching meekly by the road,
That a million praying Pilgrims would converge here from afar,
And the Softly Cooing Kinglet, Who illumined this abode,
Was the Firmament’s Adornment, was the Baby Avatar.

—Phane R. Tirone
Source: Sanathana Sarathi, Dec. 1977