What floated idly in our dreams
Incorporated our liquid selves,
Quickly, into its fluffy cotton clouds.
We are not we of our dreams
But just fleeting fragments of light
That roamed the silent inky night.
The luminous red-and-white chalk-lines
On our profoundly furrowed foreheads
Extended, over our tenement tops and temple towers,
Into an anarchic aggregation of scriptural argument
The truth lay, mainly, not in monistic oneness,
Not even in the dualistic separateness
But in the fiery union of the flesh with the spirit.
Jagannath rao Adukuri
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/at-sriperumbudur-the-birthplace-of-ramanujacharya/
