Worships

Oh, I could worship Indra’s rise

In roaring, rain-bound thunder,

And Rudra’s wild, capricious eyes

That split the sky asunder.

Their glory flows in cloud-packed skies

And wakes my weary wonder.

Yet all their virile glories bloom

In Gaia’s soft receiving,

And I could love her earthly womb,

Her fecund grace perceiving.

Could die into her pregnant tomb

To rise in her believing.

And Chronos, higher yet somehow,

All lives and lands surrounding,

In balanced, glorious, fluid Tao

Rolls worlds and worlds abounding.

That motion of forever now

Assuring and astounding.

Yet t’ward what final life and mind

Might this dread logic shove me:

To One creating worlds and time

Above all gods above me.

Oh may I glimpse that one Divine

And gasp to find He love me.