Blue-skinned Avatar
He played His flute for me –
Krishna at my window.
I listened enrapt, note for note,
slipping into a reverie, wondering
about this Hindu, blue-skinned Avatar.
Tried to remember what I’d learned
over the years of His various escapades
and the teaching stories, His methods and purpose.
How might this Piper and His melody
effect my own liberation and escape?
The music ceased. Krishna
turned away,
over the rise and gone from sight –
leaving me in a silent, wistful solitude,
the memory fading of Love’s sweet lilt,
I, not yet ripe, having failed to respond
wholeheartedly to His numinous invitation.
O child of God, mind is the culprit, say the Mystics –
the self-involved, misapplication of thought.
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