In Kumaon, a woman is photographed, Offering flowers and water to the path, In the mountains, she treads everyday. This woman and her way,
Belong to my land, where They believe there’s life in forms Made of stone, wood and metal; In the gross and the subtle;
In the river and the mountain Which breathe, if you listen; in the Temple tree encircled in a thread, Where prayer and humility embed,
Wisdom of the earth Insight of the sky In arriving and leaving, The in-between weaving –
Sacred thought Sacred intention Sacred action Sacred creation.
Pouring its beauty in each sphere In this land, the sacred everywhere.
