THE SHOULDER-PLAY

109. Poor slave was I, how long I poured out all my days for naught,
To Him the all-supreme no homage rendering! Yet see,
How He, the jewel from eternal ages incorrupt,
Has come and drawn the prison-bolt of births, and set me free.
Play we Tonokkam

In the poetry of all lands lovers have appealed to birds to be their messengers to the distant loved one. This is so common in Indian poetry as to have become a recognised convention. Here the saint sends his message of love and devotion, in one case by a humming bee, in the other by the Indian cuckoo, to Siva who dwells in Tillai, i.e. Chidambaram.