I am the lark of life, flitting in the skies of Thy cosmic presence, thirstily looking for the raindrops of Thy manifestations. Filter through the cruel clouds of silence Thy showering omnipresence.
I will be attentive to every raindrop of Thy perception which shall touch my parched and craving lips. I will drink Thee within, and I will embrace the feet of Thy raindrops of realization, gently falling on my frail body without.
This age-long thirst of mine will only cease when Thy touch shall cool my craving soul within and my zeal-warmed body without. The storm of despondency and hopelessness has passed. Thy raindrops of peace have moistened each dry particle of my being, and I will flit everywhere, singing Thy song of contentment.
Make me Thy lark, looking for no other drink but the waters of Thy solace, flowing through the heavens of Thy being everywhere.