From the weary bottom of my heart,

The light never pierces but a cosmic dread.

Cold and old, it rumbles, and it moans.

For the fright of God, unknown.

A mysterious deity – cloaked in a shroud,

peeping here and there, hidden,

but Its voice – loud and clear.

The muteness of my tiny ears

can fill an ocean with my sobbing tears.

Give my fear a shape, Or my eyes a rest,

Or pose my heart like a giant temple,

A church, A mosque – tiny and vast within,

that sweeps the doubt like a sin.

I built this stand with a skeptic’s mind,

torturing thoughts and worrying kind,

while tossing between what-ifswith a weep and a fading cry,

wishing to prostrate to a God,

Who thrives nowhere.

If this poem can reveal His Might,

and His Might will appease my heart-

my heart will serve the Almighty.