A poem written on receiving inspiration, which I tried my best to transcribe. (Circa. 2000)


“Simply see your lover as Krishna!”

These kindly words rebounded through the hills of California

And plunged deep into a heart – the heart of a disciple,

Which was before that moment tempestuous with self-loathing;

Loathsome of his lusts and passions and his so-called love – for another man.

But now he need weep no more. For to Krishna all are women

– male or female in bodily form, His love draws all the same way.

Some may smile at this, some may weep with relief, but my question is:

Could I ever see you as Krishna?  For often I love you as such.

Your eyes, at least, are blue.

And your voice soothes me as would His mystic Flute;

Your body has Krishna’s limbs (I have noticed) and it too

Is sweet and honest and true.

I love you, oh I love you!

Krishna is sweetness. Krishna is the Divine Lover.

Then why, when he was born a man, did he take birth a Warrior?

To defend the Truth of course, and thus the Earth

From Falsehood’s endless demon births.

That Krishna is a jealous Lover comes then as no surprise –

Nor that in defence of the one he loves will like a fanned flame rise.

But think not that he cares for Himself or that he feels as other men –

Because for Truth He has lived and died, and for Truth He would do it again.

No. Krishna loves, He loves. And so He is one who saves:

Should His lover so much as tilt Her gaze towards

Or even look askance in troubled mood

At the adoring demons – a grinning, drooling, hypnotic brood –

And He will force Her flight from danger –

Even if He must take Her by the hair on Her head

He will spare nothing to save Her.

What is a Lover unless one who saves?

 Krishna, Krishna, Krishna…

Maybe these thoughts were more for me than you –

But when I love Krishna, I love you too.