In the
spire of dreams I dwell
Ketaki is
my name,
From my
lofty perch I spy
My maker's
lofty game
My maker
does make many worlds
Filled with
peaks and vales,
And peoples
of a myriad kind
Starring in
myriad tales
They live
in vain it seems to me
And die in
equal vain,
They live
in hope of paradise
But all
they get is pain
Grieved by
all their futile ways
My maker, I
advise
Please
build them a road, my Lord
A road to
the paradise
The road is
always there, my child
It shines
by the light of my eyes
'Tis
visible even from thy abode
My road to
paradise
Atop the
spire of dreams I spy
And sure as
day it lies
Gleaming
'neath the moonlit sky
The road to
paradise
Go then to
the golden end
And set the
standard gold
Lead then
thou my children on
The road to
Paradise
I descend
therefore, I take the path
But the
sheer length exhausts me
I crawl and
walk and run toward
The road to
paradise
Somewhere
along that lonely trail
I perceive
some company
Delighted
thus I journey on
The road to
paradise
Presently
our merry mob
Ceases to
be One
And before
we know it, we've left
The road to
paradise
Distracted
by our many-ness
Branded as
kin or foe
We play our
silly games around
The road to
paradise
And in this
semi-ignorance
We're born
and we live and die
Never free
yet never bound to
The road to
paradise
Like a poem
stumbles on metric feet
From
abstraction to verse
Some of our
numbers recall
The road to
paradise
They
scratch their heads and search their hearts
And trace
their tracks and roots
And
remember My descent into
The road to
paradise
For I was
neither born nor dead
Not of this
world was I
I was a
lonely treader of
The road to
paradise
And from my
sheer single-ness
I
constructed the throng
And
therefore dug a pothole in
The road to
paradise
Through
this game of lost and found
My Maker
did admonish
Know
thyself and know thee thus
The road IS
paradise