. . . . . .  

My dreams are populated

By unique faces

that look the same.

You appear in all of them,

 a multiplied Krishna

 Playing the game of love.


To gods, love is a divine sport;

Ask any gopi. To each of them love

is more than a stratagem

To banish boredom in Brindaban.

To them, love is life's rhythmic dance,

pranced forever in a circle

That never breaks, never ends.



15 December 2016
All Poems
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