Swami

In quiet ashrams where incense curls,
A swami glides like twilight’s pearl.
His robe, a saffron‑tinted hue,
Whispers of ancient truths anew.

With eyes that hold the moon’s soft gaze,
He teaches stillness in the haze.
Through chant and breath, the mind finds peace,
A tranquil pulse that never ceases.

Seekers gather, hearts open wide,
To drink the wisdom at his side.
In every word, a gentle art,
A compass for the wandering heart.

So let us bow to the swami’s grace,
Whose love dissolves time and space.