Founder Acharya His Divine Grace
A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada

Poetry
Nov 27, 2022
The Oldest Song, A Poem

THE OLDEST SONG (An excerpt from The Saffron Path) ARJUNA: Seeing those before me causes me to shiver. To lift my bow is as though I had never. Hairs stand on end, mind is reeling. I’m confused; it’s new, this kind of feeling. Sri Krishna, I just cannot fight. There’s something here that is not right. KRISHNA: Arjuna, you’ve lost your sense of duty. A man of defense renounced a warrior’s beauty? For the wise there’s a different point of view. Of eternity, no birth, no death, known by few. Consider the world, which is full of duality. Good and bad is its only reality. The major point is not to lament. The soul is forever, that is my comment. Moving through bodies from young to old. From old to young, this circle does unfold. ARJUNA: Krishna, what is the force that compels one to do wrong? If you could, please include this in your song? KRISHNA: It is desire, born of passion, then wrath. That keeps us covered and obscures the path. Perform your yoga, and your sacrifice, For the Creator, and then all will be nice. ARJUNA: Krishna, yoga can be tried for calming the mind. But the mind is an instrument of a different kind. I’m fine if asked to harness the wind. But the mind cannot be anchored or pinned. KRISHNA: Begin the process; take it easy and slow. In the end, there’s freedom; the soul will then glow. ARJUNA: You are my teacher, mentor and guide. It was no mistake to have you on my side. I have come to consider about you there is more. It’s your cosmic form that I wish to explore. KRISHNA: The form is manifest when we have the eyes. Otherwise there’s the tendency to despise. I reveal it to those whose devotion is clear. When friendship is firm, to them I am dear. It is surrender through service that is so sweet. It is surrender that is illusion’s defeat. ARJUNA: Oh Krishna, my doubt is now gone. I believe the fight should definitely go on. KRISHNA: Arjuna, my song is old but alive. You have your free will, but now let me drive.

Exclusive from Bhaktimarga Swami
Nov 12, 2022
The Living Hill, A Poem

The god of rain, Indra, became extremely irate Pride is often the big part of his game With thunder, clouds, and lightening so great He exerts this power to maintain his fame What incited him so was a talkative child Who put his village on a paradigm shift Instead of a day to honour a god so wild The boy proposed a new direction, creating the rift The boy was opposed to the poor watering this god does That rivers, lakes, oceans already have a supply "He's off target which should cause one to pause Better to honour the green hill nearby We benefit from its many grasses and plants Food for our animals and food for us To the hill, cows, and brahmins we give thanks With a feast and a fest with so little fuss." The villagers agreed to this new concept But the god of rain was vengeful indeed In response to the boy's challenging precept Indra released his weapons with speed The downpour of rain was very devastating It came down like cold wet pillars of pain The cries for help were unhesitating The boy acted swiftly with ease and no strain Placing his hands at the base of the hill And working his way under the heavy mound He lifted it with the valour of a hero's thrill While under its shelter came souls from all around The deluge of water lasted for seven long days Amazed and saved were the inhabitants of the town Who were spared of a shameful Indra's craze As the boy's incredible feat put his pride down All was restored to normal for a day in the life A jealous god was humbled, all were happy too As well as the living hill that became so light By the strength of the boy, Krishna, of a dark hue Our story hails from five millenia past When Krishna was offered a deserved arm massage The volume of miracles continues to last By Govardhan Hill which is not a mirage

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