In my reflection of first seeing Prabhupada,which was in Atlanta, I whipped up this poem:
Oh, how we all loved him
His message was not born from a whim
What enticed was not age or looks
More so the deep content in his books
He was hale and hearty, not frail
When we walked with him on the trail
In the green called Piedmont Park
Winter morning and not dark
I tried to catch a word he’d say
But distance kept the sound at bay
I turned to listen, hit a lamp post
My forehead hurt the most
Frankly my heart ached more
From the sheer joy at the very core|
I could have been a sleazoid
Sex and drugs having my organs destroyed
I truly struck luck so much
Being with him and a bhakti batch
More than half a century gone
Back to full circle where it begun
Love escalated here, love of a different kind
For our guru coming down a spiritual line
– By Bhaktimarga Swami
Source: https://www.thewalkingmonk.net/post/how-we-all-loved-him
Comments