I was shocked, confused, bewildered
As I entered Goloka’s door;
Not by the beauty of it all,
Nor the light or its decor.
But it was the devotees in Goloka
That I was amazed to see;
I knew them all on the earth
But they had so little bhakti.
There stood my sankirtan leader
The one who stole Krsna’s money twice;
Next to him was my old TP
Who was never ever nice.
Krsna Das, who never preached,
Who seemed so insincere,
Was sitting ecstatically with Krsna,
To whom he seemed so dear.
I asked my guru,