Divine Mystery

 

 What millennium are You coming from

That Your robe smells of lotus?

And what myth are You emanating from

That a sip of Your celestial song

Quences my thirst?

Like the snow

I melt,

Facing the glory of Your sight.

Sow Your smile

On the sheaf of my sorrow

and let grapes of happiness grow.

Between the manifesttion of Your sight

And my mind

Something is growing slowly,

Fluttering in green

Up to the meaning of immortality.

~ Simin Behroozi ~

(Sanathana Sarathi - Feb. 2000)