WILLIAMSJI MAVELI WRITES

A borrowed light, a fragile elegance,
Reflected not from heaven's extent,
But born of dust, in human appearance,
A gentle calm within the tempest.
No wings they wear, no golden crown,
Yet kindness makes a sacred place
Of common streets, where burdens lie,
And look of love can touch the sky.
In eyes that hold a tear unshed,
For sorrows felt, for words implicit,
A depth of soul, a silent plea,
Reveals a vast divinity.
WILLIAMSJI MAVELI