śrī śaṃkarāṣṭakam

Eight verses by the paramahamsa Brahmananda, and each of them is bound together by a single rhyming sound carried through every foot. One runs on aram — the weight of matted hair on his head, poison for food, the destruction of everything, his wandering on Kailasa, the far shore of the sea of becoming. The next runs on alam, through the brow bright with the digit of the moon, the snake at the throat, the guarding of the three worlds and the garland of human heads, and finishes by calling him the death of Time and yet gentle. Later verses take agam and esam and ayam in the same way. The sense is conventional Shaiva material, but it is arranged so that the ear hears a chime at the end of every clause, and the final verse asks for nothing but to salute him evening and morning without a break.