The Love-Thirst of Bhakti

In seeking the Source

I am searching my universe

for your waters of

an unceasing spring.

Is it little wonder then

how we marvel and revere

Him whose

brown tempered frame

reed of straw underarm

His ostrich egg in hand

filled with water by

by secret ways

Daily enters the camp

of His naked children

to share His gift

with smiling eyes

While I

but know morning dew

upon rocks and buds of earth.