HOW WE ALL LOVED HIM

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

MAY THE SOURCE BE WITH YOU

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