And as she drew her pot
To anoint
the symbol of his majestic being
He heard her whisper
passionate things
that sounded like a prayer
I am the waters for your parched soul , she said
I am the milk for your hungering eyes
I am the flow in Ganga
I who churn in love as Radha
I am the priestess of all you become!
Open those eyes, quench the soul
And tell me, Shiva, Which of us is who?
So much yours, I am you,
Yet i spill over
As abundance.
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