Brahma is god the creator but gets little satisfaction;
his devotees number so few it’s as if he lies in traction.
It seems that the act of conception is relatively passe:
the big bang may be cosmic but is barely more than risque.
The babies play on Vishnu’s lap who must preserve and protect them;
he answers all the whining of the universe with love’s sweet hymn.
In fact, God only takes birth as the compassionate one;
he endlessly renews love’s game as illusion’s great fun.
Shiva the destroyer brings the play to an end, but only
after millions and millions of lives as all and sundry.
Shiva and Brahma are both a very special one-pony trick:
to birth and destroy the ego mind is god-awfull slick!
Brahma is all spent and Shiva waits upon nature;
Darvish cries out to the beloved for kisses of rapture!
