Hidden Hands

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Hidden Hands

A Sonnet

What stupendous craft of hidden hands
Has woven this splendour across lands!
The minute ant and the sky-reaching tree
All do express a single will wild and free.

Our body, breath and holding bone
And the mud, dust and inert stone;
All were woven by a single hand 
So too the bird call of insistent demand!

Our lives are lived only to work out
Whose hand brings this miracle about.
Empires do fade in reluctant gloom
Without that quest drift to doom.

But to us, happy brats huddled in mire
Call thee Mā and bask by Thy immortal Fire!

PS: Offering to the Divine Mother, on day 3 of Navratri 2018.