Only the sound of sadhaks sweeping leaves, Feet bare, backs bent low and the intermittent Caw of Indian crows breaking the peace - Coarse brooms, their swishing motion meticulously Across the concrete, now across the soil. Flower bedecked Samadhi silently Accepts the prayers of supplicants while bees Sated among the flowers slowly fly From lotus to rose upon the scented breeze And I through the centuries walk slowly by The Service Tree while around me devotees Press their heads and hands to the cool-white marble stone, Disciples aged and infirm, youthful, mature, Relieve the burdens of their lives, atone For grievances and offer up the soul With cleansing prayers and aspiration's fire. While the swish of brooms continues methodically We rise a half-step nearer to the goal.
Poems Undated (1727)
Home
Disciples
Narad
Share your feedback. Help us improve. Or ask a question.