The Madness of Mahashivratri

They run, they dance, they chant His name,Lost in the ritual, lost in the game.Drums and bells, the echoes rise,Yet they miss the truth before their eyes.

They seek the Lord in temple walls,In towering shrines, in sacred halls.They bathe the stone, they light the flame,But never look within the same.

Shiv is not in gold or clay,Not just a night, nor just a day.Not in the milk they pour with pride,But in the soul they push aside.

They shout, they fast, they bow so deep,Yet in their hearts, no wisdom seeps.They chase, they rush, they race, they run,Forgetting He and they are one.

If only they'd pause, if only they'd see,Shiv is within—you, me, and He.Not in the clamor, not in the show,But in the silence, deep below.

So let them dance, let them cry,Let them seek Him in the sky.But those who know, they stand so still,For Shiv is found in heart, in will.