The Bay of Bengal

The Bay of Bengal

Narayana,

The boy who

Rides

On the sea swell

Like a rainbow fish on the wave,

Your face,

Straight-nosed,

Radiant as the ancient moon, unseen

Beyond the present cosmos,

Deep blue, the petaled lotus,

Swift, your hurled discus;

Salt tides murmur in the humming strain

Of the conch shell.

You float by on the branch of a green

Tree,

Your smile an enigma,

Sad, yet ever glad

Anon,

You drift off to sleep.

Who are you,

Lord of the shadowy sea

And the moon-risen grace?

Who are you

Walking out from the edge of the brave

Woods, dense and deep,

At the dawn

Of all the time-tilled rings?

You sail on the wings

Of the great dark swan,

Or dream on the white coiled train

Of Adi Sesha,

Who will be

The only one to remain.

You carry the key,

Narayana,

To the tall

Stone gate,

Long

Closed.

You are the singer of the song,

Narayana,

Of all the notes gone

Silent,

And all

That await

The shining rain-lit moment,

An era yet to be.

© Sharon St Joan, June 12, 2013

Photo: Sharon St Joan