In the Depths of Rebirth's Dream

In my next life I'll be the sky, a story folded in blue,
the cricket's call, a barren grey field stretching through.

In my next life I'll be moonlight, the old moon's spinning wheel,
the beauty mark on my beloved's cheek, or flowers in her hair so real.

In my next life I'll be a porter, treasure of my mother's empty breast,
the sleep of rain and sun, the gentle touch that wakes such rest.

In my next life I'll be a river, a ferry on the waves' embrace,
a sandbar by the Padma's shore, an oar that breaks the water's pace.

In my next life I'll be a spring, dark Krishna's plaited hair,
the golden vine's sweet yearning, mango and jackfruit buds so fair.

In my next life I'll be the earth, a tree within earth's breast,
the weaver bird's small dwelling, bangles on dark wrists blessed.

In my next life I'll be a cloud, shelter of the village bride,
a firefly when evening falls, a necklace of song's pride.

In my next life I'll be a shepherd, Hamelin's magic flute,
all the games of childhood whim, dust beneath the guru's foot.

In my next life I'll be the sun, a kite at twilight's hour,
a house built of moonbeams, golden grain's harvested power.

In my next life I'll be vermillion, border of my mother's sari,
the red of sindoor and holi, henna-painted hands so merry.

In my next life I'll be a song, strings of the magic violin,
a newborn baby's laughter, the mad saint's wild din.

What I could not have in this birth, in that life I shall receive,
What I never wished to be here, there I shall achieve.

Whose sight I never glimpsed in this life, I'll become their eyes,
Who I could never have in this world, I'll become their body's prize.