Nestled where that living water flows,
his triumphant blast of life has entered everything
and drenched our being in his eternal newness.

Promontory fountain, river of that immensity
running in this, my blood and veins,
hushed living brook's babble resonates upon this,
the original vibrant night.

This hand upon that pulse that silence bore.
This first question is living itself out in everything
Though No man knows where he goes,
yet knows on arriving, return.
Etched upon the face of living life,
Bathed in living water, I long for light.

Pondicherry, November, 1970