Dec 1, 2011 | Poetry, Ramasarana Dasa, Volume-08 Number-12 (Indian)
Toddling and stumbling the three years old me, With fingers in the mouth my school I went to see Terrified, I was when my mother left me alone, Helplessly, I cried, “I want to go back home” The seed of attachment was already sown, Alas! Goloka, the...
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