Nothing
Stirred and, like a pessimist who would find
Never a fish in the pond, desolate
Ages slipped by. Sapteshwara was indeed
Stunned but in half a moment decided
To do austerities, and to Priyā
Told so. A sudden flock of augur birds
Flew over his head lost in thought; tranquil wings
Beat through blueness of the wind. In a calm
Hillside temple he, gathering himself
For long years, stayed and looked into the germ
Of death. Nothing came from the Twelve, Diśā
Had no clue, nor the elements, nor hell,
And the soul of the earth suffered. Anguished,
Into the self of zero he entered
To explore its puzzling contents, the cause.
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