Line by line the mortal pearls
Are grinded to dust,
While safely kept in the closet.
And when adorned,
By the saints frail,
Shine like the rusted nails.
They are not my creations,
Mere reflections,
On the assorted suspensions.
Disintegrating by and by,
Leaving behind vulnerable voids.
And here I am, their curator,
Trying to preserve,
With potions and paints,
Keep them alive,
Until I faint;
An alarm I am, with them I stay,
Lest the devil take them away,
Take me away…
While fighting this fierce battle, I pray,
O! Krishna guide me.
Against myself this battle is mine,
Suspended in truth, suspended in time.
Eyes have forgotten the tears,
Awry smiles in mind somewhere,
Beyond lies my battlefield,
O! Krishna come to my shield
Let me not forsake myself
Long before I cease to be.
Are grinded to dust,
While safely kept in the closet.
And when adorned,
By the saints frail,
Shine like the rusted nails.
They are not my creations,
Mere reflections,
On the assorted suspensions.
Disintegrating by and by,
Leaving behind vulnerable voids.
And here I am, their curator,
Trying to preserve,
With potions and paints,
Keep them alive,
Until I faint;
An alarm I am, with them I stay,
Lest the devil take them away,
Take me away…
While fighting this fierce battle, I pray,
O! Krishna guide me.
Against myself this battle is mine,
Suspended in truth, suspended in time.
Eyes have forgotten the tears,
Awry smiles in mind somewhere,
Beyond lies my battlefield,
O! Krishna come to my shield
Let me not forsake myself
Long before I cease to be.
