We haven’t met . . . yet,
Or at least not on this plane,
For you have gone on to be with Krsna.
I remain yet in illusion.
I listen to you chanting the Bhagavad-gita.
You live yet in this world,
For as long as one tape is played,
One devotee offers respects,
A picture is shown,
Even yet, you are with us still.
I don’t understand the words you chant—
My native language is English,
Yours is the language of eternity.
And I, as I’ve stated, am yet in illusion.
Far is the distance I’ve yet to travel,
My weaknesses are many.
I begin to understand the problem—
To search for that light:
Back to Godhead.
Your coming here
Is one of Krsna’s Matchless Gifts.
For this I am grateful.
I listen to the words,
Those which have endured for millennia,
Absorbing the meaning on a spiritual level,
If not the physical level.
And maybe someday I will be worthy to offer
A leaf, a flower, fruit, or water to Lord Krsna.
But till then I strive to understand
The transcendental meaning in
Hare Krsna, Hare Krsna,
Krsna Krsna, Hare Hare
Hare Rama, Hare Rama,
Rama Rama, Hare Hare.
—Patrick L. Garrison