Jan 1, 1967 | Poetry, Rayarama Dasa, Volume-01 Number-05
Why does sunlight fade the carpet but not flowers? And who is the sun? Behold the countless eyes of day, Numberless daisies ashiver with ecstasy upon the meadow field. The meadow is a pure, radiant meadow. Sacrifice is love, I think. I? No, not a balloon full of...
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