The Lost Seeker By Dorothy Walters

The Lost Seeker
Oh, where is my robe?
I have looked everywhere
and I cannot find it.
When I meet others
wearing their robes and beads,
my heart clutches
in envy.
They know how to chant mantras
and sing kirtan,
ways to fall into the secret
rapture.
They turn about
on their jeweled sandals,
each movement a blessing.
I have neither bindu nor robe,
no scepter or crown,
only the sacred presence within.
Only the kisses that she
and I know together
when “naked to naked goes.”

Dorothy Walters
March 18, 2018

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