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.