Varanasi

A shore for myself to commit my sins
And a pail of river that covers them white
A moving crowd to poke my conscience
And a priestly figure who patches those pricks

A floating piece to survey the treatments
And a rising Sun that cures my darkness
A singing man soothing my knowledge
And a working cow that lingers my moves

A reining diety to share my wishes
And a queue of people telling their stories
Strength in my veins and wisdom in my sight
In one short visit, tryst with my river