ARUNACHALA

Ruby red radiant mountain, see and behold,

Gift of Lord Shiva in fabled days of old.

We pray to reach your holy feet, oh sacred hill,

You, all wisdom-knowledge, are God's own will.

Your grace shines like the bright rays of the morning Sun,

Calling all Devotees to melt into the One.

We yearn to drown in the vast ocean of your bliss,

Like you gave the Mother Divine, the blessing of your kiss.

If you fail to gant me your ever flowing grace,

I'll never know my own original face,

I'll die shipwrecked before I reach the other shore,

To be reborn again in sad samsara ever more.

Whatever be your will, do that alone,

I shall will it too, bowing before your golden throne.

Alan Jacobs

Composed at Arunachala Feb. 2012