The Poem of Two Hearts

For happiness I need not much,

Seeing your slippers at my door,

Having your warm pillow close,

Pouring strong tea into two cups.

For pure inner joy, I need only you,

Your kind words bring me hope,

My remembrances of you, excite my lust,

Your soul heals my broken heart.

Your sweet and loving voice at night,

Calms and excites.

Your sexy whisper before dawn,

Only makes me long for more.

Beloved Heart-Friend of mine,

Now, I do surely know,

That real marriages are arranged in Heaven,

And not by the holy priest or family plan.

For souls are born as pairlings–boy and girl,

And sent into the world alone,

To search for one another, no Deva help,

Only a faint remembrance remains, sometimes.

And when the storm breaks and

Angry dark clouds are threatening,

You comb my hair and kiss my cheeks,

There is no sadness, no harm, no fear.

A Rishi once took me aside, and

We sat together ‘neath an old fig tree.

The old man smiled, and after some time said,

“Most love is bitter, cold, over-seeped tea,

Failing to give us what we truly need,

For its leaves are self-love and greed.

Real love is sweet, warm, and nutty,

Pleasing to the tongue and nice to the stomach,

For its flowers are love of neighbor and Krishna.

Krishna’s tea pot is bottomless and always sweet,

Pleasing to the senses, the mind, and the heart.

But for Krishna to fill our cup to its brim,

First, we must pour out the bitter draught.

The one who waits will value the meeting.

In parting, no one is to blame. . .

The one who cannot love will kill the candle, but

The one who loves is shining still.