Divine Brahmin

Born of ancient, noble exultation. A lotus among uncountable weeds. Speaking the dwindling language of a dying population. Her blessings have been polluted in the churn of Calcutta’s filthy streets. Scorned for an unwavering quest for love, where the exchange of rupees blacken hands. A glorious heart resides within, unyielding to societies chains. Bars of confinement to her yearnings still the demands of life’s passions. In the silent, cool night she weeps, for a world lost in loveless slavery. Her heart victim to the masses. A restless pillar fighting defiled conformity. Justice has not found her bedpost. Societies eyes cry not for the weak. Deepening insomnia displaces all dreams. The smothering hands of tradition imprison. But a new path has opened. Where love and compassion breed equality, and caste crumbles upon fertile ground. Shining a light on a new horizon. May Krishna grant her the power. To make the leap to higher ground. Where unleashed love and passion blossom in liberty’s eternal sunshine.