Dear Sir,
As you are glowing, the verses keep flowing. 
This is the 7th tribute to the attributeless one. 
I offer it to you with head bowed and knees in genuflection.

7. U.R., U.G.

1) We understand him each in our own way,
Not knowing it's all part of his play,
We are frightened chickens, only playing with fear,
"No way out," he says, with clarity so clear.

2) The things we gobble are addictive,
He claims sex and food are equally seductive,
For him day in and day out it's triple cream,
Unpalatable even in our wildest dream!

3) Spends more time in the air than on the earth,
Condescends not to step in his state of birth,
He only knows why he globe-trots,
To poor us he is an enigma of sorts!

4) Memory is your problem and thought the enemy,
The answer's with U.G., I keep telling me,
He rises up and says there's no way out,
You are burdened with it till the flame fizzles out!

5) He said rebirth is just a belief,
And even the dead said what a relief!
Death, an event with an end in itself,
Flesh until dust, gone all pomp and pelf!

6) He is the fiddler and we are the tunes,
A merciful mirage in life's sandy dunes,
U.G., the world's never solved mystery?
No one dares try, lest he becomes history!