The Echo

There comes the time when the candles burn within, Krishna pipes the Sound of delicate dragon-fly wings; on summer afternoons you listen in the stillness of the diamond sun, catch it and let it run with you into the evening star that splits the moon. I want to hold God’s hand, look into His eyes that pour out the Love of all my yearnings, let Him teach me the ways of the beyond where lies my Home; comes the echo from Krishna’s Flute, His Name, the Compassionate One, is Kirpal Singh.

David Teed