In these wild wanderings 
we begin to find the tune of our music 
like lotus water and red painted sindoor
paper folded cranes in a sun stained window
and the shadow of the master
standing on the wall

Bhavatarini: a woman dances in circles
and screams at her mother.
We all touch her feet in this carnal church 
adoring only this rapture: 
this tantric window that whittles away
the barriers at the tops of our skin

We confront those stained glass windows
that cover the cave of the heart
like sun shadows moving in the daylight:
I’ve got no where to go
I’ve turned right at every fork in the road 
all these cobbled pathways lead back home