The ghats of the west
Circumambulate
To spawn the vale of soulful selves. 
The Ashram abides
To nestle in clover
Artful hands denuding impulses wild 
Of crazing flora 
Charm them into rows and lines -
Cottages sunk in groves,
Lie asleep in green of calm.
Reneging all austere
Bashing of flesh,
The regimen is a hale blend
Of the mind and body.
The twin sheaths
Nourished well
For their mutual weal.
The sanctum of the divine master
Dhakshina-murthy 
In pregnant silence 
Of wordless sermon lights up all 
Hearts swimming into his ken 
And the bliss of shared oneness
Cuts across
Diverse pieties of the world.
In that aural assemblage 
Squatting cheek by jowl -
In contrast, 
The eloquent Guru
Of the Ashram
Brings to his discourse
The comprehending idiom
Of the heart.
Compassion brimming.
From perennial depth.
And the Elysian air
Without
Is a cadence of chirping souls.