For Krishna

He was a beautiful soul

burdened by a heaving body

and a gravitational ugliness

imagined only

in the works of fiction

A Quasimodo with the purest heart

And I sat there

shaded by the banyan trees, reading

while he swept the temple courtyard

in the sweltering heat

humming Hare Krishna to himself

and gleefully giggling

as he earnestly created small piles

Sweating enough to hydrate half the garden

"This is for Krishna Tom!"

He beamed shamelessly.

"I hope Krishna gives me a good lunch for this."

And I couldn’t help but smile warmly

as I watched this simple man

not too sharp

but golden

hopelessly sweep the leaves around the benches

Beaming triumphantly

before the wind blew them back

into the chaos behind him

A blissful Sisyphus

And I knew that afternoon

whatever God-consciousness

the temple

was seeking to attain

Striving to preserve

between its glittering, corrupted walls

lived effortlessly undefiled in the gestures and intentions

of this simple man

Because he was the kind of person

who unknowingly lived to serve

The type of being you meet

only a handful of times in your life

If you’re lucky