THE ADORATION OF SHIVA

Even the dark has grown new eyes.
In the wide spaces beyond my ken
Arises a sense as clear as sight,
And still with ears, a stroke of Zen.

A sense of innumerable stars
Awakening in the secret night,
Points of light in the vast expanse
That glow and sense the same twilight.

My sacred sense is a feel of space
That grows aware of my emptiness.
I am the unknown reach of growing sky
Surrounding me with omnipotence.

A luminous cloud burns in my stead
And stains the skyline gold and red.