I’ve looked for you,
since creation was being conceptualised
and bare-bodied souls
inert, each like a corpse
in an ancient, cosmic cauldron,
waiting for young clouds to caress
and twinkling stars to moisten them.
I’ve tried reaching out to you,
rivers of smoke,
flowing from a fiery soul
zigzag-ing through cosmos
to find their way,
traversing barren heaths
that seemed to belong nowhere.
I hear your voice today,
a touch that haunts me
in the midst of screeching tyres
and life rushing by.
I wake up,
rise and hold your outstretched hand.
Will you show me the way?