The Quintessential 

With open palms,

Catching slivers

Off falling stream,

Through years of patience

And termoil

Whenever I am almost It,

It eludes me,

Flings me,

Back into the meaningless void,

Into this world

Of arbitrary, inconsistent, irrational

Order.

Yet it beckons again

With deeper seraphic sublime,

The core

That lies beneath.

                                        by Ramakant Pande