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Now please bring your small child home

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consists of empty expectation

without the slightest ground.

I am a honey bee buzzing around

the lotus flowers on a tapestry.

This enchanting scene, O MahaMaya,

is composed solely from your silken threads,

your brilliant strands of consciousness.

 

Playfully your persuaded me

that the bitter fruit of egocentric desire

is sweeter than sugar

Greedily, I consumed this strange fruit.

Its sharp taste remains in my mouth

day after day.

You drew my soul to the relative plane

by the promise of wonderful communion,

but this divine play in the mode of separation

has been severely disappointing.

 

Sings your poet of mystic union:

"O Kali, the drama of my life

was composed and acted out

in the blazing summer field of destiny.

Now please bring your small child home

through the fragrant cool of evening,

cradled in your arms, lost in your gaze,

disappearing in your love."

 

Ma Kali .... Ma Kali ..... Ma Kali!

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