How badly does it hurt, my Lord, to see you so sadly reduced. You stand for plurality; none other does so as grandly and yet so often you are abused.
You, my Lord, my teacher, my friend, who are without beginning and without end.
You, who is never born, to see you torn into leaves me forlorn.
You shelter Chandra from his curse,
You catch your daughter's deluge in your matted locks so that we are not drowned in her ferocity,
You go above and beyond what even Visnu is willing to do; while Lakshmi lives enshrined in Hari's heart you look to Ma and smiling together you become One, known to all the world as Ardhanariswara/swari.
At every turn, my dearest guide, you outsmart and outwit, and yet you let them trample your name. But there is the catch! The one truth they do not see! You let them do all this; you let them fall beneath their own feet with every nasty word they spill.
Hara, Hara, Mahadeva, Maheswara, Parameswara, Shiva. A breath on my lips, your name always in my mind. My love for you is never in doubt, no wonder I am so hurt by their words while you simply smile as you do for you know how it always plays out.
I do not know the correct procedures, I do not know the correct mantras of worship, but you are Shiva, Bholenath, and I can only hope that you are pleased with these, my words, as offerings are your lotus feet.
You, my Lord, my teacher, my friend, who are without beginning and without end.
You, who is never born, to see you torn into leaves me forlorn.
You shelter Chandra from his curse,
You catch your daughter's deluge in your matted locks so that we are not drowned in her ferocity,
You go above and beyond what even Visnu is willing to do; while Lakshmi lives enshrined in Hari's heart you look to Ma and smiling together you become One, known to all the world as Ardhanariswara/swari.
At every turn, my dearest guide, you outsmart and outwit, and yet you let them trample your name. But there is the catch! The one truth they do not see! You let them do all this; you let them fall beneath their own feet with every nasty word they spill.
Hara, Hara, Mahadeva, Maheswara, Parameswara, Shiva. A breath on my lips, your name always in my mind. My love for you is never in doubt, no wonder I am so hurt by their words while you simply smile as you do for you know how it always plays out.
I do not know the correct procedures, I do not know the correct mantras of worship, but you are Shiva, Bholenath, and I can only hope that you are pleased with these, my words, as offerings are your lotus feet.
