The Song Of Zoravar

By Jaskaran Singh Dhillon

High, soaring up in the peaks,

Of The Great Himalayas

Walks the man, fashioned in 

Robes of white and peach.

He walks amidst the forest's kind:

The leopards and the apes;

The monkey king bows to him 

And the silver slithering serpents pay him homage.

His hair are twisted braids,

Of long silky strands as long as dreadlocks, 

But open and free.

He walks in the Ice, barefoot 

And the skies do shower rain 

To wash his body, tall and slender.

He vanishes into the thin air at will;

Can vaporize his body and materialise with skill.

They call him Zora;

The man of the mountain forest,

His eyes are a shade of icy grey

And on his forehead he fashions

A band of cloth and steel.

Zora, Zora, Zora cries the village oracle thrice,

Yearning to get a glimpse of the mysterious shadow

Of a man you now know.

He wears a thick beard of brown,

And fashions a bangle of steel

He kisses the rain and washes what he wears

Beneath the waterfall.

They say he speaks sometimes in fluent punjabi, 

Others say they've never heard 

Anything from his lips but silence,

Radiating tranquility and peace.

He appears to those who need him,

In their hour of need,

Zora, Zora, Zora is the name to remember

For he, Zoravar is a man of his word

And he does have a band of friends.

The friends guard the secrets of the forest and their kin;

These friends are men, beasts

And creatures of the forest's mystery.

Zora, Zora, Zora! 

Cries the jungle foul

Zora, Zora, Zora!

Sings the wise old owl.

Zora, Zora, Zora! 

Beats the village headman's drum.

Zora, Zora , Zora!

Cries the oracle.

Watchout for a tall and slim figure

That shines in the dark of the forest; 

For zoravar's body glows

In the dim of the night best.

Zora listens to each sound in the forest

And can see through trees and rocks and hills

And with love does his aura fill

Every being that crosses his holy path at will.

By Jaskaran Singh Dhillon