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Oh, right.
Mortals cannot find you with their eyes.

But
These pair of eyes, Krishna
Find you
In your mere absence.

In the flame of my golden lamp,
I see you.

In the quiet moment between two heartbeats,
I hear you.

Everytime I smell butter,
I smell you.

Everytime the flute brushes against my skin
The one you left me
I feel you.

The swarm of bees
Still hum the lilting tunes of your
Beloved lute.

The trees and cows
Still bow in obeisance.

Tell me, Krishna.
How have I been so senseless all this while?

Isn't it ironic?
How you're
Nowhere.
Yet,
Everywhere.

Radha's KrishnaWhere stories live. Discover now