New York, United States
This poem is inspired by Gurumayi’s words “Bade Baba is love. He is of the fragrance of love.”
I am in the Temple with Bade Baba’s golden murti.
He is wearing the auspicious colors, gold and saffron.
Orange and red tulips and yellow daffodils
surround his beneficent form.
The sitar strings pluck the music of my heart.
Deep breath in, long breath out.
Long breath out, deep breath in.
I close my eyes and enter his space.
Gurubhava, the Guru’s outlook, the Guru’s state.
Slowly, mysteriously, it happens.
I no longer breathe with Bade Baba.
Now Bade Baba is breathing me.
“Bade Baba is love.
He is of the fragrance of love.”
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