søndag 23. oktober 2016

Observing the natural scenery of a place of childhood past times.



I have come
here,
the summer house,
a property
of some pride,
an heirloom
from my fathers side,
to do some
practical errands.

By the grace
of my dear aunt,
the property's proprietor,
some devotees
have been staying
here
to attend
a handful of programs
in the local
village.

Now,
come Sunday evening,
I am here
to lock up the house,
to see that
the place
is once again
presentable
to my dear aunt.
(She is particular
about these things.)

After climbing
a rocky pathway
a few times
to load the car,
I take the time
to relish a
moment,
taking in the
beauty of the
natural scenery.

It
is
spectacular.

I must have
spent
at least
twenty summers here.
Now I rarely
visit,
being preoccupied
with the activities of
family life.

The late
autumn evening
envelops all
in darkness.
Some crickets
play
in the dew moistened
grass,
a small creek
gurgles
in solitude.

I am standing
on the veranda,
dark though
it may be,
the familiarity
of this place
enables me
to discern
details.

Fruit trees.
The vast fjord,
surprisingly calm,
as if itself
relishes
the last leg
of warm season's
end.
Scattered islands,
where seagulls
nest.
The marina
in the distance,
a few boats only
at this time,
belonging either
to sturdy enthusiasts,
or lazy peons.

At the end of the pier,
a lone
docking light
shines brightly,
extending
a cubic aura
of pale light
over the water.

I feel sometimes
like that
lonely light;
a soul,
wayward and restless,
desperate to
regain my
composure and
inherent
nature of
devotion to Krishna;
trying to light up
the darkness.

The crickets,
grossly embodied,
may be more
unconscious of
their true nature,
busy with
the urges of
body and instinct.

By the mercy
of Srila Prabhupada
I have a small role
in the sankirtan mission
of Lord Caitanya.
This will be
my saving
grace.

There are
a thousand
excuses
and difficulties
on this path,
yet in
essence,
the philosophy and
practice
is so clear,
that despite
a mental disposition
and many a
material condition,
I persevere
and
continue,
again and
again realizing
the urgent need
for this
wonderful and
very profound
movement,
this ISKCON.

As I walk
back to the car
in the dark,
I pray
to remain
always
in the association
of the devotees,
and to be made
able
to reach out,
if in only a
simple and kindhearted way,
to other
wayward souls,
so that many more
might be given
the opportunity
to go home
back to Godhead.

This is the kind
gift of
the Pancha Tattva,
empowering all small lights
to shine and guide
in the darkness of
this world.

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