Oh My God
If at all there is a temple
built of silence
and even a mirror isn't shrined!
I would dig you up
from the vedas,
from your thousand names,
from icons of clay, stone or wood-waste,
from forms and formless,
from prejudices of mysterious rituals,
oral and organic,
from the unconcious,
from the rich, soft and temder blood of
my slain brother,
from prisons my ego has locked up.
I would safe you.
You that all trees, weeds and worms
soak and revel in.
And shrine you, my god,
in that temple of silence
where tears from within light up lamps
and go home, never to come back again.
For I love you,
the great nothingness that you are,
as much as I love myself.
[Translated by K.V.Subrahmanyan]