(460) Purvakashe rauniin rage
In the crimson color of eastern sky,
Lovingly, You have arrived.
With a gala of light in the sky of mind,[1]
Bestowing fulfillment, You've smiled.
Dismissing distinction twixt ones near and far,
The bounds of limitation You've swept aside.
Quenching throats that were sorely parched,
You've dispensed the nectar of life.
Amid a hushed and static darkness
The Formless is graced with radiant vibration.
With Your very own hand upon our eyelids,
You've painted the salve of blissful ideation.
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Neohumanism is the hope of humanity.
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