The aruna hara posse rides again over to the asrama of the swami who wears the turban
You know Kesava Bharati who can give the saffron cloth
He’s got a danda and Mahaprabhu is ready for sannyasa mantra line
Ten syllables of the most potent kind
His head was shaved, the people raved
He told the guru he had had dream
Him receiving the mantra was what he’d seen
“Is that the one?” he asked, “Yes that’s it! It rises in my heart like cream!”
Who initiated whom? Some say the swami crossed over that day, he changed from Mayavadi to vaisnava Mahaprabhu’s mercy
Absorbed in ecstasy, Mahaprabhu didn’t know if it was day or night, looking for the way to Vrndavan and asking everyone in sight
When asked some cowherd boys down on the Ganges bank they played a little prank
Then Advaita Acarya on a boat brought him back
Sri tree is carving out pedaling trails deep in the tissues of my mind. Rob a bank dares all who come as I pedal by on the way to the gecko. The bridge over Saint Dagwood’s river and I go on to the tennis park right on the redone road to the theater that’s lit up again for another show. The gecko doesn’t know what one it is but he’s not concerned as long as I keep pedaling it keeps him happy. Sprinting through the west side triangle to the house that taught choc-o-lot to talk-a-lot around the harbor between the lakes the foghorn sounds. The beach folks are enjoying their bon fires in spite of the chill. Then it’s time for to get back for the sandhya the wharf road to the long and winding one where the tree waits to welcome me back and send me quickly on my way.
One of the folks said to me today “chanting rounds late last night I saw three flashes of light. I waited for the fourth but it didn’t come.” So I said “Prabhu, Prabhu calm down, what was in the curd pakoras you ate?” “They must be dancing, just come to mangala arati and see the Lotus nails dress and let that put your doubts to rest”