Haight-Ashbury, 1967
by Nava-yauvana das

It was the darkest of darkness,
the flower childrens' dreams:
hallucinated hopes, LSD-gods,
aimless, lost chemically-induced lovers.
Then unexpected, univited, Swamiji entered.

  Swamiji, the courageous:
opening a temple in a battlefield
  where it was most needed.

Swamiji, the genuinely humble:
    "I am nobody's guru,
  I am everybody's servant."

       Swamiji, the wise:
"Krishna Consciousness resolves everything.
    Nothing else is needed."

   Swamiji, the compassionate:
       "I have no other medicine.
    Please chant this Hare Krishna.
I have no other explanation. I have no other answer."

         Swamiji, the beloved:
        minister to the hippies,
   preaching to the poverty of their souls.

                Swamiji, the aloof:
     looking not at bodies, looking at their souls.

        Swamiji, the grandfather, friend, teacher,
             guide, naughty child, pure devotee.

                  Swamiji, the kind:
              chanting, dancing, watching,
    leading, encouraging, sheltering, nourishing.

                   Swamiji, the deliverer:
             from hedonism to Krishna-ism.

                    Swamiji, the innovator:
    turning hippie sex-life to Vedic wedding rites,
be-ins to love-feasts, street scene to Ratha-yatra.

                   Swamiji, the Real Person:
            serene, stately, grave, humorous,
    un-pretentious, accessible, unhurried, undisturbed,
                 right there with everybody,
                        totally right there.
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Causeless Mercy (#32)