- -My Stella - 78

- -My Stella - 78 - To Rabindranath Tagore - Poet of nature and child of immortal self, Where to begin and where to end to praise thineprime? Beginningless and endless is thy piety, Ever fresh and fluidlike moving stream and mellifluous like morning star. Thou art the saga of the ancient rhyme and in thine self the play of suchness. The first bard to sing thefresh song of morning and setting sun, The reflex of human consciousness. The recluse of fear ridden multitude, the first and last voice of love laden souls. In theethe righteousness outside of zealotry, a mirror facing a mirror and absolute dance of emptiness. Thy respond to minute sway of breeze, the songs of birds, the rhythmic flow of unseen In manifestation, And the joy of living in its entirety through maniflod goodness echo and re-echo thy Sensitiveness. O poet peer of Almighty, tutelar of mortal emotions, thou art the ocean where thou jumped with no mind. Thy songs like pure ignorance unburden us from acheto openness. Singer of heart, thou sang and thy flute was Carried by hands esoteric and perdu. I am a lamb to my stella and a child to be reborn, Thy aesthetics and profound knowledge art beyond my imagination, And I owe tothee the reverence. The silent playfulness of my mind and celebration of my being art with my love, With my inner wife, The vastness is fearful and my innocence is too tiny to hold. The poet of ancient divinity and mind of newborn baby thou art the path, The summit of two worlds and in thy song our liberation, Ours and future generations to come.