Where do you sit mighty keeper of records
Is your desk the sky
Your pen the lightening rod
Your ink the darkling night
The Sun Stars Moon your light
Countless zillion squillion beings
Their numberless deeds
You keep them all
While I find it hard
To keep my own accounted
Would you point to us the doors
That we need enter and exit
Having shed the human shell
Formless and in bliss
Half formed lacking bliss
Fully formed returning to the womb
To restart on the sojourn
That we cycle through
minute after minute
Brahma's progeny
Son in law of Yama and Surya
Part of a heavenly effulgence
What ancient meditators
Brought your being to paper
And the understanding of
A mathematically run Universe.
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