Wherefrom arise those alethic alleles, for numinous
confabulation—that rarest of meetings (two souls
in true greeting)—reaching beyond mere refutation?
Their source I would sing—O truth-loving king—
whose names spell our highest vocation. Assayer of
souls, O sifter of selves: assist your poor grifter’s
oration!
For my intellect fails me. (I trip and I slip); I can’t
name even our basic relation. Perfecting the this-
ness of singular now-ness, go inwards, past eyes’
false sublation.
Bestower of bodies, of spirit, of breath: breathe me
your true adoration… (as vast as the prayers on the
lips of your child, as small as all of creation)!
____
Nihal Singh