In God Makes the Rivers to Flow; An Anthology of the World’s Sacred Poetry & Prose, Eknath Easwaran includes a selection from Swami Ramdas entitled “Divine Mystery.”  I’ve written the following poem-like reflections inspired by this selection.

The Mother Plays

How wondrous art Thou! from whom cometh forth
The splendor of sun, moon, fire, stars.
Thou sporteth, O Mother, as all the worlds,
Each being and thing is Thyself in Thy myriad forms.
—Swami Ramdas

The Mother plays baseball with sun, moon, and stars, batting them into orbit.

Fire springs from the palms of her hands.  She lights a torch and plunges it down her throat.

She is all the worlds racing around the track, with no end in sight.

She is all the worlds playing football in elaborate formations.

And she is every player on a basketball court, dodging and dribbling, shooting herself in the hoop.

She is the ocean where all games begin.

She is the mystery which manifests for us win, lose, win, lose—according to our thoughts.

She is the one mind through which we strategize.

She is the one breath we all breathe.

She is the body made up of all bodies.

She frolics with the otters and ferrets and bear cubs and fox kits.

She plays frisbee with the dog, grasping the frisbee in her mouth.

She beats our hearts and dwells inside them and holds us to her heart.

She is the water that quenches our thirst, the fire that warms the heart, all air, all earth, all void.

She is the spotlight on the contestant gliding across the ice.

She is all life.

And what can we do but love her?

O Mother Divine!