Saraswati

A Poem

Thou art the creator will’s infinite art
In the dangling dew and the beating heart

This patterned mosaic of throbbing life
A star strewn sky above our common strife.

The Rishi by an aeonic tapas waits for Thee
By patient audience awaits thy Shruti

All patient art and mind-drawn things
Are what thy musing heart brings.

Innumerable, inexorable hands are Thine
O Dextrous Infinite, O Mother Divine.

All method is Thee, and its expression
Thou art the creatrix of every impression.

Wake Mother, wake our parts to Thee
Weave for us the immaculate new reality.

Picture Courtesy: Vrindavan Das

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