What Is Real?

by Narayana Kavaca dasa

In winter
When the brook slows
To a cold trickle
The pond has frozen
And the fire inside
Makes blue wisps of smoke
That join the pregnant sky
I stand oftimes
Not far from my door
Praying softly
On my Krishna beads

We speak together
You and I
I tell you how I wish
To be a better friend

I wish I felt bhakti
(meaning love)
But our Prabhupada says
It means to serve with devotion
That serving is really love

What is real between us?
You send the snowflakes
To melt on my lashes
Incense thick and sweet

Impatient, I can only count
To see how many prayers I’ve made
To gloat, almost done
My quota of mantras

What is real?
My warm toes
In wool socks and boots
Careful words
Not quite honest
About how I wish to love you
If it’s not too hard
Not too lonely

What is real?
To see your footprints, in India
The skinny sadhus
Who tell with gleaming eyes
Where you walked, and more
That I am ashamed to hear

But that depends again on you
Motorcars and airplanes
Better just stay here and
Talk between friends
Not sex, or money, or flattery

What is real?
Time alone with you
Gray drizzle
Early morning
Moonlight and

Hare Krishna


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