The buds are shouting
"The gardener is coming!
Today he picks the flowers,
tomorrow us!"
Kabir*
Tomorrow I leave this ancient city. An enchanted forest of peace and bliss which has cleansed and rejuvenated my soul. I shall miss the devotion and fervour of undying faith, the nonchalance of life and death, the love and respect from unknown glances, the familiar smiles that capture the warmth of summer, the eyes that kiss, the heralding of a new day, magical meanderings down the river, Mother Ganga Herself, sublime evenings of tranquil music, mystical encounters with truth, moonlit meditations on the ghats and the divine light that this city possesses.
I can only thank that Supreme Source which guides me along my beautiful path, who whispers hope in my ear, and who brings joy and peace to my steady gait. I will be heading to Canada soon, but before that I hope to make my way down and flow into the Arabian sea, and spend a few days in Goa.
Volunteering with World Literacy of Canada these past few months have been immensely satisfying. The circle is deemed complete, and I am back to 0. Soon I shall have to figure out how to pay my next month's mortgage and the bills that come with it. I will have a show of my paintings once I get back to Canada.
If any of you have any plots or ploys for me, in accordance with the divine plan do let me know.
More love and light than ever,
Prashant
* kabir is a 15th century mystic poet from India who lived in Varanasi. He
was a weaver by trade, but a poet at heart....and is one of India's greatest poets.
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