Through the looking-glass, yet again
Her simple plea to be nothing but a servant was so humble and utterly devoid of ego, that the ego of that ‘I,’ the One who was fully aware of the unity of the collective soul, was brought down to the level of a lover of mortals. He swept his silken coat of breeze, studded with diamonds droplets of bansuri-magic, across Meera’s garden, gently lulling her back into his world.
"It's been a while," he whispered. She thought it was a light breeze that tickled her ear, as she lay sleeping. She stirred, and as if some reluctant residue of a dream called her, she returned once more, into the arms of sleep.
She sensed his smile before she saw it. She felt his words before she heard it. She listened harder but he was teasing her once more. Here one minute, gone the next. Just when she though He was hers, He disappeared, widening the void ever so little.
Deep within the void, the pain she had felt, the aching emptiness threatened to overwhelm her. To take the Meera in her away. To leave her hollowed and scooped out.
She peeped a little further into her abyss and thought "Kanna, would you really do this? Would you take a suffering soul and hurt her even more? Is this your karuna? Does your leela understand when a limit has been overstepped, when a wound has been opened too wide? Will your leela let you do so much harm to my soul and stand by to watch the life in me drain out?
As she waited for the wave of her own grief to sweep her away from the realms of the living, he stepped forth. Ever so radiant. Ever so beautiful. Yes, ever so impish. An adolescent awkwardness in the way he held his flute, a mature seductiveness in the way he smiled. An innocent charm in the tune he played, an adult understanding in the single glance he gave her.
There was a life to be lived yet.
Editor's note - thanks goes yet again to pb for our heroine's second foray into the world of Brindavan.
"It's been a while," he whispered. She thought it was a light breeze that tickled her ear, as she lay sleeping. She stirred, and as if some reluctant residue of a dream called her, she returned once more, into the arms of sleep.
She sensed his smile before she saw it. She felt his words before she heard it. She listened harder but he was teasing her once more. Here one minute, gone the next. Just when she though He was hers, He disappeared, widening the void ever so little.
Deep within the void, the pain she had felt, the aching emptiness threatened to overwhelm her. To take the Meera in her away. To leave her hollowed and scooped out.
She peeped a little further into her abyss and thought "Kanna, would you really do this? Would you take a suffering soul and hurt her even more? Is this your karuna? Does your leela understand when a limit has been overstepped, when a wound has been opened too wide? Will your leela let you do so much harm to my soul and stand by to watch the life in me drain out?
As she waited for the wave of her own grief to sweep her away from the realms of the living, he stepped forth. Ever so radiant. Ever so beautiful. Yes, ever so impish. An adolescent awkwardness in the way he held his flute, a mature seductiveness in the way he smiled. An innocent charm in the tune he played, an adult understanding in the single glance he gave her.
There was a life to be lived yet.
Editor's note - thanks goes yet again to pb for our heroine's second foray into the world of Brindavan.
posted by crazybard at 7:26 AM
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