PRACTICE

A lamp is lit to burn in my spirit's hearth,
I rest in rosy red of dawn with God who's One.
For at my core he shines, blazing like the Sun.
Let sandal wood breathe and perfume Earth,
Letting petty 'me' go, to start new birth.

The art of diving deep within, is my own
Earnest practise, solemnly bowing down
My ashen head at His lotus feet, to know
The oil in my camphor lamp* shall flow.

The quest itself's derived from fear of death,
At edge of brink to that far off ocean depth,
I catch a glimpse of light from down below,
And sink within,letting wan world float away.
As old day fades, my flame shall always stay!

*Camphor burnt in votive lamps leaves no residue