With two coconuts and wind to wave in
There is angry God at the other shore.
Between us and him there is a wading
As if of oblivion, of our never returning.
We are wading a chest -high in waters
And our heads below our drowning act.
These waters are our common wading,
A thread through our living and dying.
This is the very aqua inside coconuts
Waving in high wind, the very waters
Where we had begun, eyes still shut
To blinding sun waiting at cave’s end.
(after visit to the cave temple in Bidar)