In the dead of

night, lies stillness.

In bright daylight,

soars the whimpering

cry of a wounded bird.

At half-past eleven,

brooks rush to flow.

Lightning strikes.

Thunder booms.

Flowers bloom,

Violet orchids

smile. A cup is

filled, water drips.

Bamboo pierces the

hardened soil. Bares

the secrets of earth.

At three quarter,

Moist mud glistens.

At ten to six,

dames bathe in

pale moonshine.

By nine o’clock,

She moans.



Is desire

of a muse

who longs.

– written in 2004.

From Kali Goddess:

“A mature soul who engages in spiritual practice to remove the illusion of the ego sees Mother Kali as very sweet, affectionate, and overflowing with incomprehensible love for Her children.”

“She is one of the few Goddesses who is celibate practicing austerity and renunciation!”