Discovering Faith

The Ganga flows In gurgling ripples of laughter. Overflowing edges With its snow melted contents. Quenching the foliage With it’s sacred holiness, And the stillness in the air Looks on in envy. On the midday sun heat, Standing by the cobbled paths Have you, Put out your arms, and Seen its waters flow through, The fingers of your cupped hands. Felt the droplets, Enchant your burning body. Have you, Encountered the gushing waters of purity, Forcing your clothes to flow with it As you clasp at the chains, And let your sins drown or wash away; Amidst chants of... `Om Har Har Ganga’ At each dip. Or seen, The evening aartis Glittering across its banks, Endearing the Ganga To entice the Gods to come to witness; His beings of imperfection recite The vedic mantras of Om Hari Sharanam In their honour. But we the incompetent, See not your presence within us. Or the collective power of resonance In prayers unto you. For you are the complete immortal, The unadulterated truth; We the illusions of the incomplete, Body and mind: our sins.