The Mouth of the Ganges

Let us go to the
Source of the stream
Issuing from the ice floes, the
Snow.  Let us stand
In the freezing wind and
Bow to the fusion of God
Man and nature in the
Arctic air - the veils to
Heaven are thin here and
The wind leaves its message
In our inner ear; the
Water is loud, the ice creaks
And groans, beneath our
Frozen garments warm
Are our hearts.  We have come
To seek our God
And we found him
In this lonely place
Inhospitable
And singing.

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