Kailashbhai would often meet with me In his room across from the Ashram gate And tell me of the Ashram's history In humorous tales of joyous times and fate. Now when fails much of my memory I remember little of his cheerful words But I know him as I knew the bards, His modest humour and sincerity. Outside his room there was a Service tree Pruned to beauty by my dear friend Juan. In his wheelchair I took Kailashbhai To see a man of deepened consciousness Work with love and true humility.
Poems Undated (1727)
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