Soliloquies in Yoga — 3

Aspirant: What am I? A mere vagrant upon the seas of space and time. An eddy of karma that will be gone when He wills it done.
What am I? An orphan of heaven, searching for Him who left me standing here.
What am I? A corrupter of morals, a taint on man.
What am I? An apprentice god.
What am I? A canvas for the play of Prakriti.
What am I? Savage and a Rishi born blended.
What am I? A courier of heaven lost amidst time.
What am I?

Above all else, I am but a boy, a play-mate of Sri Krishna.

What monumental aches? Such anguishes and terrors. The wailing and screams. And all because He hid himself a tad longer than necessary?!

Well, far longer than necessary but what can we do about it? Until the consent, the fiat of His will decrees it.

Sri Krishna: You who wail at my absence,
Born blind to all that I have become for thee.

The tiny branch hopping bird that you lingered on
was I.

The singer’s pain wrung out as song
was I.

The stranger who spilled the kind word
was I.

The axe of a dire event that stopped direr things
was I.

The serenading breeze that paused fiery stings
was I.

(Picture Courtesy Bharatmoms.)