WASHING SORROWS WITH MOONBEAMS—By Swami Yogananda
I will steal the milk of honeysuckles
Like Krishna of yore,
I will suckle the perfume
From the breast of the rose,
Roll over the velvet green
Or run after golden wings of gossamer.
I want no companions
But quietly wish to roam
With my nursing breeze.
Where the sheoli flowers
Dressed with pearly dew and showers
Rest on the throne of green gold lawns
For a while I will stand
My homage to pay to their scented majesties.
With the wings of the birds
My spirit joyfully flies
Over unknown fancies ...everywhere.
Thru the voice of birds
I will sing in silence.
I will spread with the vast blue;
With threads of sunbeams
I will sew my tattered joy.
With the moonbeams I will wash my sorrows,
With the night
I will obliterate my dark experiences,
With the dawn
I will create my new world of eternal joy.
Return to Contents