The Broken Wing/The Offering

​The Temple

A Pilgrimage of Love

"My passion shall burn as the flame of Salvation,
The flower of my love shall become the ripe fruit of Devotion"

Rabindranath Tagore

​I. The Gate of Delight

I. The Offering

Were beauty mine, Beloved, I would bring itLike a rare blossom to Love's glowing shrine;Were dear youth mine, Beloved, I would fling itLike a rich pearl into Love's lustrous wine.
Were greatness mine, Beloved, I would offerSuch radiant gifts of glory and of fame,Like camphor and like curds to pour and profferBefore Love's bright and sacrificial flame.
But I have naught save my heart's deathless passionThat craves no recompense divinely sweet,Content to wait in proud and lowly fashion,And kiss the shadow of Love's passing feet.
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