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Devotee (08.10.08), Bagnan

I had made your temple
into my mind.
I kept the door open to
let easy wind.
In the morning, birds sang
with dew fall.
At late night, I harked 
your clear call.
Like a little boy, I cried and
found solace with my 
tear fall.

There was no other 
worshipper but I,
There was no stain in the
cloudless sky.
I swept the temple way,
wiped temple floor.
I thought your cygnet would
appear at the door.
I collected flowers, burnt 
scented sticks and picked up 
grass, a score.

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