In the silence of dawn, where rivers meet the skies,
Flows the secret stream, where Shakti’s essence lies.
A dance of water, fluid and free,
Whispers of alchemy, and the soul’s decree.
Jal, the bearer of ancient grace,
Reflects the universe in its endless face.
With every ripple, with every wave,
It cleanses the spirit, the lost to save.
From sacred springs to the Ganga's might,
Water holds the key to cosmic light.
In Tantric rites, it purifies the soul,
A vessel of Shakti, making the fractured whole.
In each drop, a world, vast and deep,
Where mysteries of the elements silently sleep.
A touch of Rasa, an alchemist’s gold,
Turns metal to spirit, as stories unfold.
Through the hands of the sage, and the heart of the seer,
Water becomes the path to draw the divine near.
It moulds to the cup, it flows through time,
A silent witness to the soul’s climb.
The alchemist stirs the liquid flame,
In water’s depths, it knows no name.
Yet transformation hums in its flow,
An essence revealed in the deepest glow.
Jal Tattva, the pulse of life’s embrace,
Flows through the veins of this sacred space.
A fluid dance of Shakti’s might,
A mirror of consciousness, hidden from sight.
In every ritual, in every rite,
Water carries the seeker’s flight.
To realms where form and formless meet,
Where the ocean of truth laps at the feet.
So bless the waters, pure and wide,
Where secrets of the cosmos hide.
For in the ripples of its flow,
The alchemy of life will forever glow.
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