THE
R.Y. DESHPANDE
As in a descending flight,
Descending from the sky because
Our gaze has yet to climb
The blue rapture of his song,
You can hear the applause
Of his coming, you can see
The
Between what is and what shall be
Swoops down the great flame-bird.
Even when he flies from life to life
In his living there is no gap
And his fire burns everywhere;
He has no need of death to reach
What cannot be breathed in Time.
His journey is a single lap
Compressed like speech
In the beginningless word
And his hour is all Eternity.