Frozen light silvers on black lines,
Yes, this ice is on fire!
Steam smokes the tree’s air,
Saying, “Here!” A distant sun burns time.
The satsangh bell rings anew.
First, hear it unto silence return.
If, for the eternal you yearn,
Ice on fire is one view.
Written for Harsha, on the inauguration of his Satsangh list, recalling
with great joy his words: “The ice melts when it is time.”
Gloria Lee 1/3/99