You, my Lord, in life, in demise,
You are ever with me day and night.
Neath an extreme rainstorm's beating You are there;
You dance on the sweet wind of a southern breeze.
In the tune of nor'wester, You compose prosody,
Every moment with the air and with fire.
Birthless and deathless is Your cosmic sport;
Your game is through fracture and creation.
In winter a coolness, then the summer warmth;
By being contrary, inwardly You smile.
Sarkarverse article
Audio recording
One minute sweet, the next minute sour.
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