An ode to a sanyasi

Perhaps here
in a sound old family
I spend my years
wondering how

The saffron robed
solitary master
How does
he live without

Perhaps the earth is his mother
The sun his father
The trees are his friends
And night his lover

The birds are children
The sky his heart
The stumbling jeeva
A friend in need

Love is his job
And wonder his income
Blessing his expenditure
But incurs no loss

Truth his embellishment
Ahimsa his crown
Vaidika dharma
His passion abound

I really do wonder
From my sacred pond
His oceanic grace
Are those drops of rain.