The Joy We Couldn’t Name
The Supreme Pastimes — The Divine Arrival
========================================

In Vṛndāvana’s bloom, where fortune graced,  

A child was born, divinely placed.  

Nanda called the seers to chart the sky,  

While garlands bloomed and drums beat high.  



The gopīs came with ornaments bright,  

Hearts alight with mystic light.  

Their anklets chimed on painted stone,  

To bless the child, though not their own.  



He was the joy we couldn’t name,  

Bathed in stars and hidden flame.  

Born to save yet veiled in play,  

A light that danced the dark away.  



They brought milk and butter, gold and grain,  

Showered His form with love’s sweet rain.  

From jeweled lips and scented hands,  

They built His throne with silken strands.  



To Mathurā Nanda then rode,  

While Vasudeva bore secret load.  

He saw his son in another's care,  

And praised the fate too kind to bear.  



He was the joy we couldn’t name,  

Bathed in stars and hidden flame.  

Born to save yet veiled in play,  

A light that danced the dark away.  



Oh friendship forged through birth and pain,  

Through veils of fate, through loss and gain.  

Two hearts that knew the deeper thread,  

Where truth walks soft though never said.  



With cows and stars they shaped His day,  

While demons sought to block the way.  

Yet under ghee and sacred thread,  

The Lord of love was safely fed.  



He was the joy we couldn’t name,  

Bathed in stars and hidden flame.  

Born to save yet veiled in play,  

A light that danced the dark away.  



He was the joy we couldn’t name,  

Bathed in stars and hidden flame.  



He was the joy we couldn’t name.