Mahaprabhu is searching the lost servants
Think they know what they want but really don’t know
So He’ll show what life’s all about
Prema, divine prema comes by his grace
Jadhu munecas are purifying our soul
Jewels applied with some kind of glue
May look good but come off quick too
Kirtan sweet kirtan source of the ocean of bliss
Material conception frustrates the rest
Roses, petals, sumanas leis sway to and fro with chanting sound
Just why do I insist on hanging around
Here in this world
Kirtan prema kirtan
Source of the ocean of bliss
Murkha and I take off from the main street over the first highway. The field of the clank of the aluminum bat is on the right while the house that taught choc-o-lot to talk-a-lot is on the left. The cruiser king is at the reviewing stand and notes the passing. Through the treacherous triangle to the redone road Murkha and I are sprinting and laughing. Left between the lakes where the geese are honking and the sufferers are getting ready for the chill of the evening. The big street leads back to the long and winding where the ratha-bhojana-vrksa watches murhka bow his head and the kalarupa challenges him to the sandhya
I have to take leave to the shop and leave Murkha to the arati.
Om paramahamsa thakura is in with the pirates of marakata mani puri and together they dress Guru-Gauranga Gandharvika-Giridhari in the pink and emerald night dress that is reminiscent of the horse of a different color we’ve heard tell about.
one of the ladies passing the thakura vari today
Srimati Gandharvika caught her eye
For that moment she was free
Desire and longing
As she looked she said to me
“this is my favorite,
gandharvika’s skirt looks like a bubble”
heading over to the tilak garden
flowers shining in the sun
perhaps five or seven devotees
stringing leis for the top most one
roses with leaves to stretch them to their knees
Murkja and spun along to the space highway
Floating weightlessly
March Four and twenty it was one friend’s birthday
Sending wishes Murkha took the thakura’s names
I do believe he knew it was Ramacandra’s avirbha
Through the lion’s park to the village where the sufferers go
Along the beach with joggers , dogs and Frisbees
Between the geese past the harbor to the natasala
Where I took leave and Murka circled around the tennis park
Reaching the long and winding bowing to the ratha-bhojana-vrksa the kalarupa pulls him back for the sandhya
Where he saw an eternally golden one chanting his rounds
On his tulasi beads that he got from his teacher
Nrsimhadeva;s lotus nails tore the chest of hiranya kasipu they are weapons but not weapons. Offered on that day this nightdress takes that name with its not orange but not green look.