Krishnā

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Krishnā

Sonnet

At the zenith of a harsh summer morn,
Of all zest and will was I shorn,
Trapped in being and gates of fate,
In drooping brow and head to ruminate.

Then loomed in a black cloud silver-tinged,
Cancelling summer and a grim gloom arranged.
O why the fates thus pursue I wondered,
The old yoke by harsher variant replaced.

I mellowed in time, could read the runes,
My thoughts stilled to hear silence’s tunes. 
Now am rained in dew drops of ecstasy,
The black cloud a ruse by beloved of me.

Am now serenaded by His innumerable arms,
The wonder mounts endlessly of Krishnā’s charms.