Still

There was no snow, no ashes, No serpent, no trishul, No fragrance, no rudraksha — He who never lived, yet always remains. No poison, no mind, He was the poison, He was you, He was I. Chants never mattered, prayers never bound — He is bliss, He is truth, embodied. I am Shiva, or is Shiva me? Am I the river, or the ocean vast? Or am I the river in search of the ocean? We are one, we are Shiva. Neither hermit, nor god, Neither asura, nor rakshasa, Neither human, nor beast — All knees bend not in worship, but in awe. Not by death, not by exile, Not by rituals, not by offerings, Mukti comes when the veil falls, When fragrance fills the air of consciousness.