At some place hard to reach, a cranny of the mind,
Who knows when You'd arrived?
You know it, but people do not realize.
Science having understood, philosophy scrutinized,
The reply nowhere did I find.
In the flame is a capacity for burning;
In the oyster shell, a nacre filling.
The supreme devotion of human psyche,
Who had conferred on the lonesome?
To the world why had You brought me?
By joy and grief myself You had ringed.
Why had You left and got concealed?
The answer for these is in Your whim.
Sarkarverse article
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When the sole answer to my queries is "Your fancy", then by intellect my questions go unanswered. Only in devotion do I find some resolution and some consolation. But as to devotion, when and how it arose, only You know.
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