Poetry

Oh, My Master’s Lotus Feet Are Bittersweet

By Tamal Krishna Goswami

God’s greatest gift, service to my master,
Exorcist of the ghost of past desire,
Sweet purgative, bittersweet oil of castor.

I’ve found my master’s service does inspire
Desirelessness of all but pleasing him;
Without remorse, I watch life’s joys expire.

Let lust retire, that most acidic sin,
By guru’s grace, its misery alkalize
My soured life, rescued by his discipline.

I hide my sin in shame lest he recognize
My faults and condemn what I enjoyed;
Better than praise: chastisement satisfies.

My futile lies, God’s servant to avoid,
Fearing his virtues would smash my vain conceit,
Forced by his love into service unalloyed.

How can I avoid the shelter of his feet,
When the feelings of my heart are overjoyed?
Oh, my master’s lotus feet are bittersweet.

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