I trailed not your footprints,
I traced not your handiwork, I sought not you.
Your wicked sense of humour but,
Could not go unnoticed too.
Is our reality your imagination?
Or our imagination your reality?
Ah! And I know not how,
These ideas come to me.
Our creativity is imitation,
Yours is Creation
Our beauty is imperfection,
Yours is Perfection.
You give one world to all,
A sense of everything.
But are our worlds the same?
Everything an illusion of nothing.
You give us miracles,
When we claim to have faith in none.
And you wisely disclaim it,
When we fight; we kill for our religion.
You allow us knowledge, but generously sprinkle your mysteries,
We see all the plants but never the seeds you sow.
Our knowledge of the five elements,
Arises from a sixth, we do not know.
One colour that divides us all,
All your colours that blend into one.
If this is not divide and rule,
How do you explain man and woman?
You give us eyes to wonder at the open sky,
Legs to stand tall, legs to bow down.
But hands not wings to fly.
A body to tempt, a mind to explore.
You give us a feel of your presence,
When there is nothing and nowhere.
And then you create everything,
And hide yourself everywhere.
Yes God,
You are the wise old man,
with the flowing white beard,
in whose lap I shall sit,
deaf and blind to the world.
And with my little fingers feel your lips, as you laugh.
You laugh, and I laugh.
But there is a twinkle in your eyes now.
You have cracked another joke,
You and I? And we laugh,
My laughter surging up from somewhere deep inside you.
The music of your soul.
You and I are thee.
15 years, 2003
