Embrace you with my tiny little hands.
They are soiled, muddy, and dirty.
When touched I put my finger prints,
on your snow-white robe.
I saw your sleeves spoiled by black sweaty dirt.
You took my hand put your imprint-
-of love on my forehead

Oh, Mother! How fortunate I am.
To touch and feel saturated sugar candy-
of your love, when you sweetened me with,
nectar of your grace; I melted,
by warmth and dissolved in you.

You are churning me making me vomit,
my venom, scum off my mind.
You were stirring and swirling me along.
I am surfaced, floating as butter of your grace.
The ambrosia of your love!
Mother eat this butter and drink me into infinite

Satheesan Rangorath