The boy Patanjali,
flying his kite in the breezy Thiramurti hills
one day cut the thread; the kite
sailed over the hills upon the wind;
asked why he had done that,
the child had no answer;
only his future life
and yoga sutras.
The kite was silent, dancing in its joy;
we, that joyful kite.
Michael Shepherd
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/patanjali-for-alison/
