Ripe

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Ripe

A Poem

Gopis

What paltry frame is this body mine?
And a mind addicted to the inane!
Speech leashed to a profane spell
And heart closed by a circle small.

My exertions are only firefly brief
Each cry dissolves at birth in grief.
How far art Thou O Supernal Sun
By what art wilt Thou be won?!

I need a hundred minds in constant thought
Scheming in love how Thou canst be caught.
Or a hundred pair arms to ceaselessly make
Things minutely perfect only for Thy sake.

A hundred bellies of unending appetite 
To serve by savour all rasa Thine favourite.
Or breathe Thee as prana by every pore
And sate my heart with Thy numberless lore.

O make space by Thy heaven crowded feet
Am ripe now to be hoisted to that seat.