Peggy’s Cove, Nova Scotia
Charm Boy
He is both menacing and adorable
His sweet innocence bars one from saying He's deplorable
For His babyhood charm is written all over His face
And whatever He does transforms that very space
That face is on Earth and beyond the skies too
His father and mother impose a well-meaning curfew
Yet He sneaks away at night under the moon
After plotting a rally of monkeys and friends by noon
The plot is to scout the neighbours' homes
And spot the butter stock like bees to honeycombs
There is success in the break and enter
It's obvious He is left, right, and center
He gets caught red handed by His mother
For His hands and mouth are moistened by thick, smooth butter
His mother decides He must learn a good lesson
She grabs a stick and starts a chasing session
But He's fast on His feet, with speed He goes
She runs and, due to fatigue, she slows
Tossing out the stick she manages to stop Him
From here on it may appear to look grim
But not so, she secures a rope to bind the boy
For both persons there's a mix of fear and joy
Mystically the rope of lesson and love
Cannot tie Him, frustrating her thereof
So He surrenders to her will of good intent
Convinced that her love is one hundred percent
He allows her to fasten Him to a mortar in the yard
For her it is not easy, in fact it is hard
In her absence He proceeds to pull rope and mortar
With ease he pulls down two trees in the back quarter
And from that fall appears two beautiful men
Bedazzled they are for what happened to them
They had been cursed by a well-known sage
For partying shamelessly, lowering guard and gauge
They now honestly feel a kind of liberation
And they credit the boy for such a relieving sensation
They were existing as trees for far too long
And now regained their original forms, so strong
There is a side to the boy that leaves us in wonder
Frivolous and yet helpful, we are left to ponder
Now who is this child with all this power
With skin blue and whose mother makes Him cower?
For many admirers and scholars He is a great subduer
Of miscreants, scoundrels, and a host of wrongdoers
He goes by different names–Damodara, Mukunda, or Krishna
If you call for Him, by any of these names, you'll feel that He's warm and that He has endless charm
-Composed by Bhaktimarga Swami, The Walking Monk©
May the Source be with you!
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