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.
