If this servant can ask for a single prayer to come true, my Lord, I pray, Only for her affection, even if, in only a moment, she must leave this city of dreams, where I must stay. I have seen already how a single touch of hers can set ablaze this soul. Give me the whole fire, Lord. I am ready to lose myself within it, to pay its every toll. If I have read true the words you etched into my mind on this life's first day, If it is true that my art is my highest offering to you, O' Lord, give me the fuel to set this lamp in my heart ablaze. I know now that Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan was never wrong To call love a river of fire, which you must drown in to cross; That, though oceans apart, Johnny Cash saw the same light when he called it a burning flame That makes for fiery rain. But I say still, "I am ready," O' Lord, for it to burn me to pieces, for it to leave me in embers, For this soul to be reborn in its ashes, reborn a million times more tender. Let the poetry that comes forth after stand burnt free of excess. Allow it only to sing The language of the commonest peasant. Yet let it guide them in thought far above the crowns of kings. Let me write a thousand poems of her after her departure. Let me bind it into a book. Let me offer it to the Pharisees of art. Let its warmth melt their cold hearts in a single look. Offer me not greatness for its success. Let it only find its place in the bookshelf of someone without the words to sing, thought their soul stands drenched in a deeper flame. Let it listen to their sorrows. Let it strengthen their resolve. Let it lead them to dharma. Let it help them admit their faults with sweetness. Let it help them pray.
