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AN EARNEST PLEA

 

Bhagavan! Your blessed feet so gently tread

On the ruby lotus petals of your lovers' minds;

Yet you pierced the iron door of the dread

Lord of Death, who'll one day strike each head

In this bad dream of the weary deaf and blind.

My brain ponders on your ways, but it's hard to find

The answer, to which my tired soul needs to be led.

Reveal Thy sacred feet within my sight, unwind

 

This twisted knot, before alas I too must fly;

And be born again in darkest ignorance,

To cry once more in this vale of tears and sigh.

I wail, before I die, grant me a blessed chance

To seize hold of your bejeweled holy feet,

When at last set free, I shall rest complete!

 

Alan

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