My God. Poem by Subrata Ray

My God is an onion,
With imaginations’ layers,
He appears, and dismays,
My every search.

My God is a river,
His dictate is soap,
I bathe and wash myself,
My blind obsession He robs.

My God is a desert,
He keeps me alone as waif,
He enjoys my forlorn -cry,
And ardent suffering He reaps.

My God’s love is an irony,
To my every material hope,
He acts as inconsistent reversal,
To dwindle and down my scope.

My God is the solution of all mystery,
He plays with me to win Him,
Amidst dark and deep temptations,
Through my times and above my times.

My God assumes Times eternal tree,
And leads me hang as seasonal fruits,
Through every birth’s root, to be seasoned!

My God is a path, -of this not -that not,
And wishes my young widow to meet Him beyond,
And possess the Love of His non dual discrimination,
With the vision to see Him in all His creations!