Make me porous, I pray, make me porous;
Drain my mem’ries of pities and sorrows.
Oil my skin to be silky and slick
’Till no thoughts of intrusion can stick.
Grow my belly with sweets and with fruit,
Laughing silly and filled with amrut.
Give me magnets to master the land;
Place the weapon of joy in my hand.
To prevail in the battle with lust,
Make my soul from a different dust—
One not bent to the whims of sansara,
But composed of resilient omkara.
In my heart light the lamp of compassion,
Bind my mind to the feet of Ganesha.
