To R.Y. Deshpande

The Hidden Springs of Poetry

Deep within the soul there lie

The hidden springs of poetry

Whose source abides in realms unseen

And planes infallible and free.

With a silent mind we wait

The word that shall regenerate,

The song scarce heard yet inly known,

The force that in us shall create

The perfect hymn, the peerless line,

The mantra that is Godhead's sign.

To gain this Grace no time is long

For to its light our days incline,

Our aspiration's fires burn

To briefly in that air sojourn.