I wake up to the poet whispering
In my ear that all places are the same
Because they disappear all the same
No one is a stranger to sorrow and so
Kindred in suffering and transience
Look at the river that seeks the depths
Sings as it flows towards death
How can stepping into one wash sins away
The hill god enters the Vaigai, walks away
Every year in a reenactment of the myth,
That both segues and separates
Have you ever been inside such a crowd
Felt your face vanish into the many faces
Got swept away by the swell of oneness ----
The drumbeats still reverberate
In the heart like a visceral rhythm
When the haze lifts the seen is unseen.
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