Silver and gold the seamstress bringing them together in a unique style all her own
My full moon madness friend won’t make me uneasy, no my friend you see it’s only a white rabbit.
His mercy makes us glad; we go to the Math and worship his feet
Do you still remember your life before? But Gurudeva came and saved us, made our Gaura consciousness bloom like madness that spring
Full rose leis packed together tightly so no string will come shinning through
Russian rose are the most fragrant so many take the prasadam upon their heads
All around the cyber highway Gecko and I are chasing friends hoping for a conversation or at least a letter. Round by Mahamuni’s post box and then Soquel creek. The village invites and Gecko and I are there seeing all the pretty people who think they’ve got it made. All along the wharf to the hook where the cruisers like to hang between the lakes are lots of sufferers and geese that compete for space on the sand. The natasala is quiet again tonight. Several electric peddlers are meeting where a hog farm used to be. Over the beach hill to the kutir of Bhakta Blade Seymour’s museum is closed but the great blue whale is happy to see someone came. Circling the natural bridge on the way to the corner where Gecko takes his leave and I go to the peddler’s ramp to visit the bear. He and I talk of how much I really need. The wharf road is calling me back to the ratha-bhojana-vrksa where the kalarupa chases me up to the sandhya and another ceremony of joy and happiness.
Creamy red with roses embroidered, smooth as silk safe as milk just remember Sri Guru-Gauranga Gandharvika-Giridhari in this nightdress and all material desires will fall away the longer and stronger meditation the more they’ll be destroyed. Above that the Thakuras dance the night away
Most interesting thing is Gandharvika’s hood
You could see but it’s just for the pujari’s eyes
So you can’t
Comes to a point with a tassel to tickle her back
Some say this is the Russian outfit
If you could see the hood you’d know
But it’s just for the pujari’s eyes
So you can’t
The capes rise on the breeze of their dance
Leis of petals appear that Mahaprabhu’s is longest
But that’s just for the pujari’s eyes
So you don’t know
Gecko and I sprint to the main street to try to make the nama hatta at Om Paramahamsa Thakura’s kutir. Over the first highway past the whalers through the treacherous triangle to Saint Dagwood’s park beach hill comes next. Right to the kutir and arriving it’s been changed to Wednesday. Joining the cyber highway by the grace of Bhakta Blade getting off at the exit of the mountain man’s ramps. For the longest time thee hasn’t been a visit to the sufferer thakura yet today he’s called for a darsana. He’s been cleaned and has a fresh lei. No wonder he called for a darsana. Leave is taken at the shop and I go down the peddler’s ramp. The bear is happy. The wharf road leads me shinning to the long and winding and the sandhya’s time declare.
Late night as Sri Guru-Gauranga Gandharvika-Giridhari dance into the night by candle light in their nightdress called baby blue.