The Echo Of The Divine

The sweet moment of twilight,

The sky,

Ready to adorn the blanket,

Of a dark blue color,

The stillness in the air,

The peace in the ambiance,

The divinity's sandstone idol,

The fragrance of mogra, sandalwood, and camphor,

And the mellow smell of the wet soil.

A flame emblazons much brighter,

As the darkness sets in,

With the sound of the conch and the bells,

And the utterance of the rhythmic mantras,

And the infallible faith of the devotees.

Indeed, this is devotion,

When everything comes to a standstill,

And is ready to be ingested,

In one's soul,

And then get engrossed,

In this immensely joyful surrender,

In dance,

In music,

In emotions,

In expression,

In joy and ecstasy,

Where one perceives the ultimate truth,

The sense of the divine.