Hymn for AwakeningMy mind is a birdwith a forked tailfighting foesgreater than me.I rise at dawnand twirl and fight,stir the overrun milkof the day and cry in alarm.My voice, it donsmany a cloak,all but my own.Pierce me, my lovewith your sunbeam’s spear.Plunder my vain clinking trinkets.Return to me, my love,my very own silenceand let me gaze unblinkingat your blinding glory.Hymn for HuntingUnwavering, my heart,like a shikra circling distant skieswith fiery eye fixed on obscure preypursues you,only you, my love.Your waist, my love,like a serpent that in itselfbrews venom from birth andspends it all in a single strike,brews eternal nectar for my moment’s yen.Like spears that flydrawn to their foes,like milk that flowsdrawn to calves,like seas in tumultdrawn to clouds,my deeds, your dreamsentwined are drawn,to death, to desire,to us,my love.The Churning of a Moment’s PleasureCome.Sit in my lap.Now are our bodies one mythic mountain.Hold.Clasp my arms.Now are our limbs, one cosmic serpent.Sink.Then rise afloat.Now am I the turtle holding your world.Churn. Churn. Churn.Your gods. My demons.My gods. Your demons.First comes venom.Swallow.Hold it in our throats.Now are we hung between life and death.Next come treasures.Split.You take wealth. I take boons.Now are we insolvent debtors forever.At last from the shimmering ocean,when demons become gods,when gods become immortal, andgod becomes a seductress,comesnectar, nectar, nectar.Spill.Let life overflow and lavish.Now have we wasted an eternity fora moment’s pleasure.Gossiping with a godThis afternoon,cloistered by the bleak monsoon cloudsI invite the dancing Siva to gossip.At my call,he relaxes, his rigidly fluid pose,lets the river of his hair ramble,casts off his cool crescent moon,lays aside his fire of wisdom,frees the demon of ignorance,and sits ungainly on my couch.As his bull chews the cud,we tattle of nagging wives,philandering men, precocious childrenraised by petty parents,backstabbers in the office.We bitch, we grouse, gripe, and slander.We laugh, we cry, smirk, and snigger.And in the night,when he yawnsand scratches the back of his headwe fall asleep sprawledby a rambling riverunder the crescent moonwith the ignorant darkness between us.A Benediction for ChangeMay the skies stay restless in Monsoon,the King of all seasons andmay they suffer rainless with tranquillity in Summer when the sun turns tyrant.May rains descend with hosts ofshowers, thunder, and lightning upon forests andmay they never invade deserts that forgot they were oceans.May oceans jealously hide in their depthspearls of mysteries andmay they open their thousand billowing arms to rushing rivers.May rivers shatter their bankswhen they overflow with joyous largesse andmay they withdraw into their mountainous wombs of sorrow when monsoon is defeated.May mountains deck themselves withemeralds, sapphires, and rubies to welcome the Queen of Spring andmay they mourn in dull browns and glacial white the slow death of Winter.May the brown parched plainsfeed hungry mouths with Autumn's moonlight andmay they grow famine in abundance to feed hunger in droughts.May hungry men learn to listen tohunger and sate the needy.May famished women slash with ploughsharesthe famines that men cause.May the powerful learn tolisten to truth and kneel to justice.May all the oppressedbehead the heads whose feet hold them down.May those with faith in their heartscut down faith with the sword of reason.May those that walk the paths of reasonblind themselves with inexplicable wonder.May evil prosper, and beauty thrive.May hate prosper, and love survive.May all that was, be as it did.May all that is, be as it is.May all that will be, be as it may.May you and I, we alone, change.Excerpted with permission from Hymns for Longing, Agnibarathi, Red River Press.