My shut eyes visualize northward
A villa of a banyan tree
Its solemn tresses southward
Bearing a sage beneath in a spree
His eyes half-shut shimmering
Like a crescent, glow spreading
His mercy, His grace, His might
His haloed face I wonder at
Overflown the zing of His grace
Fiercefully out from Him to blaze
His radiance on to a yellow bright
My mind settles at His mien and might
His right fist grips a gesture,
Chinmudra-the curved thumb and forefinger
For aeons preaching the oneness
Of finite and infinite in space
His resting left foot forming a semi lap
Stately chinmudra further scoring up
Revealed is His majestic cognised-self
To His silent preaching I submit myself
Unto His demon pressing right foot
I stoop to pardon so ignorant
Of the codex in His left hand
The cosmic laws all in one bound
Lord of the south Dakshinamoorthy
Guru to Brahma's sons, most worthy
The beacon-light He is
Entrusted, enlightened one's life is
To His holy providence I prostrate.
His rudraksha-mala in my heart
Countlessly numbers its akshas
Cuing me to give my salutations.
In obeisance along with oblations
There is my still unfound intelligence
Clouded densely with ignorance
In the core of my offerings.
Just a dropp of Guru's effulgence
As I prostrate on me falls
I'm then cleared out of my nescience.
My shut eyes open to realise.
Creation and involution symbolised
Drum and fire depicted
Upper hands presage generation and regeneration
Lower hands preach self realisation
Opened up is my conscience
To merge with His omniscience.
To that esteemed Guru of venerable cognition
Prostrations, humble prostrations.
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