Ganga
The waters are turbid throughout – The river is filled with dirt Centuries of silt entombed beneath – While above – every vestige of civilization Dam the river’s heart - Crematorium, flower bazaar, industry Almost everything reveals its grime To the sacred waters of the Ganga How can the river take it all? As if she came down to cleanse Not just Bhagirath’s ancestors But Kalyug’s descendants as well But Ganga flows on ceaselessly: Born of Hari’s feet, poured of Brahma’s pot, And embraced through Shiva’s locks – She is divine Divinity that we mortals Cannot even think of – So she serves her time on earth Knowing Kailash waits for her each time With that knowledge, this dream Remains a dream, as she connects Mountain to ocean, just as she connects Us mortals to our mighty Maker Washing our sins, dissolving our deeds Reminding us where we came from, As the universe rebirt...