By Shouvik N. Hore

Satyavan Uprose. On his twirled lips

Rose petals fell. The lap of Savitri

Him redeemed, had one more life upraised.

Dazed at the Halo on her he watched –

Upwards at the skies that branched the light

Nonplussed. From yon Western flank one ray

Of Dharma flitted across His forehead

With benisons of great life and soul.

When the music of life had touched His hair

With pleasure’s sweat at Savitri, He

Asked, “How mother, daughter, world-bearer, how?

How did thou awaken the massed world-soul

To rebirth, mother – from all this strife?”

She calmly said, “There is no death, but Life.”


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