The rsis say he’s a dancing actor, carefree with a blue flower in his hair over his left ear
Who could you tell and who would believe that he’s supremely in control?
A smooth dancing actor? I think I’ll let that sweet illusion flow.
Leis of roses, marigolds, and dalias on their dark and fair forms swayed while they danced and the devotees had kirtan
Bowing to the ratha-bhojana-vrksa I take the left at the main road. Mahamuni’s post box needs to be emptied. The gecko is waiting for me there and we take off to the snob hill. Opal cliff has sufferers, joggers and pickpockets all along the way. Between the lakes people are enjoying on the beach but the gecko and I are sprinting up to the harbor where the sailboats are on the bay. The natasala is getting ready for it first performances in a couple of months next week. The shop is still open as we pass on to Saint Dagwood’s park. Off in the distance there’s a kirtan going on so we follow the sound. We fold our palms as we pass and the devotees cheer. One of their watches tells me it’s time to sprint for the sandhya. So I take my leave and head back past the whaler’s and the florist’s around the southland and then the long and winding where the ratha-bhojana-vrksa waits for my respect. The kalarupa whips me into form to make the sandhya wonder how I’m so in with time.
The rsis say he’s a smooth dancing actor carefree with a blue flower in his hair over his left ear
Who could you tell and who would believe that he’s supremely in control? In the evening I come to help them into their deep within the far off jungle night dress so they can take themselves off to bed.