You, my lord, have many names and many faces. That's what I, who loves you like a devotee think- chanting your name every day and viewing you in each and every passing face. You are never seen only imagined as near me, with me and always in love with me.
Your stories have become legends; your memory like a burst of monsoon raga. No wonder the relation between you and m elude me like an unnamed scent. Once when in love or anger, you scattered my name across the land as a battle to be won. You barged into my space for a drop of love, for a little shelter from the cruel world.
Many a battle was won in silence; in those long months, when I faded away into insignificance and when your desperate words reached nowhere in real. Whatever the outcome, you and me were someday worshippers at some unknown sacred space. That's how the circles have remained as changing and dynamic forever.
Your stories have become legends; your memory like a burst of monsoon raga. No wonder the relation between you and m elude me like an unnamed scent. Once when in love or anger, you scattered my name across the land as a battle to be won. You barged into my space for a drop of love, for a little shelter from the cruel world.
Many a battle was won in silence; in those long months, when I faded away into insignificance and when your desperate words reached nowhere in real. Whatever the outcome, you and me were someday worshippers at some unknown sacred space. That's how the circles have remained as changing and dynamic forever.