Mahadeva

You.
Dark of form,
with ash-smeared body,
gnarnled, matted hair,
rudrakhsha and tiger skin.

You.
Who resides in the snow-clad abodes
of Kailasa, the five Kedars,
Mani Mahesh and Shrikhand Mahadev.
In Benares and Ujjain and Nasik.
And in the hearts of a countless.

You.
who are AshtaMurti, Chaumukha, Triambaka,
Sadashiv, Omkara, Rudra, Arunachalam,
Natraja, Pasupati and Ardhanarishvara.
Shankara, Shambhu and AdiYogi.
Bholenath and Kalabhairava.

You.
Who are without beginning and without end.
From whom the holy Ganga emanates.
On whose head rests the crescent.
The father of time.

You.
Who is merged into utter and absolute stillness.
Who exists in the emptiness beyond all that is.
Who is unbounded and all pervasive.
Whom tonight celebrates.
A night of intoxication and rapture.
Of fixity, enlightenment and dissolution.

You.
I humbly dedicate this to you.

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