On the hill-top sat the devotee, enveloped in a snow-white calm;
His sleepless eyes scanned the sky for a signal of light.
When the clouds got dense, when a night-bird flew past hooting,
Assuring : "Fear not brothers, consider that man is great."
No one believed it, claiming brute force to be the Divine Force,
claiming the animal as perennial.
They jeered at saintliness as a camouflage to deceive oneself.
Once hurt, they called out in sorrow : "Brother, where are you ?"
And heard the answer : "I am by your side."
Unable to perceive in the dark, they argued : "This message
is an illusion created by the panick-stricken,
A deluded self-consolation."
They professed : "Man has to struggle eternally
For his right over mirages
In the midst of an endless desert littered with hatred-thorns."
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