My heart belongs to you,
and to no other, ever,
could my love be so true.
Only one river flowing deep,
leading me to be free,
with a focused spot of light,
oh bhakti moon, beating
a heart I thought was mine,
inside of a me that never was.
Your cosmic rain more ancient
than the roaring river Ganga,
a nectar more forgiving than a wave’s
angry swallow of Lord Shiva.
Collect me in a single drop,
extract me from this dry sponge,
in fear it clings and confines.
I am stuck between a rock
that you flow between,
trying to wash away a toil
from the chaos of a busy world.
I live to give, myself to your glory,
my voice, a devotion shined bell
ringing crisp visions, that burn
through the flowered ether,
Ring-ring, ring-ring, ring-ring,
waking up the sleeping,
Hari Om, Hari Om, Hai Om
I sing out loud, a prayer,
resonating vibration, Hari Om,
harmony of a chant, rhythmic mantra
I call out to you, hungry.
I surrender at your feet, tired.
I keep coming back, in tears.
Throat aching, heart pounding,
your grace flowing over the dam
of a busy mind thinking, I see you,
but only when it stops do I feel you,
in a sweet Prasad of silence, washing
through this valley, a skeletal canyon
for your guiding waters to flow free.
~ jeffrey vionito