Vision of the Universal Form
The Supreme Pastimes — The Divine Arrival
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Whispers of the cosmos 

in a mother’s arms unfold, 

The dark-blue boy with anklets 

bright and tiny bells of gold. 



Through clay and dung he laughed 

and danced, divine in mortal play, 

And every gopī’s butter jar 

dissolved in sweet dismay.



The One who walks on earthen dust 

holds all creation's form, 

The child who steals our butter hearts 

is the Eye within the storm.



A vision flashed in mother’s gaze –

 the stars, the time, the whole, 

All elements within his mouth, 

the vast eternal soul. 



In awe she bent, in prayer she sank, 

then back to tender grace, 

The Lord became her infant son, 

asleep upon her face.



He pinched the babies, spilled the pots,

then smiled with jeweled delight, 

He played as light in deepest dark, 

a thief who grants us sight. 



His laughter rang through Vṛndāvana, 

through ghee and calf and sky, 

The child who made the sages weep 

and yogīs question why.



The One who walks on earthen dust 

holds all creation's form, 

The child who steals our butter hearts 

is the Eye within the storm.



In her arms He bloomed again, 

the veil of māyā fell, 

What yogis seek in silent caves, 

she held within her shell. 



He sucked her breast, He blinked 

His eyes, the stars withdrew their claim, 

While all the demigods looked 

down and softly spoke His name.



Garga spoke in shadowed 

tones of secrets veiled in lore, 

Of names once white, then red, 

then gold – now black forevermore. 



Giridhārī, Sankarśana, 

the lion-cub divine, 

Who lifts the hill and time itself 

with infant hands so fine.



The One who walks on earthen dust 

holds all creation's form, 

The child who steals our butter hearts 

is the Eye within the storm.



The One who walks on earthen dust 

holds all creation's form, 

The child who steals our butter hearts 

is the Eye within the storm.



he govinda he gopāla keśava mādhava dīna doyāl

he govinda he gopāla keśava mādhava dīna doyāl 

he govinda - he govinda



The child who steals our butter hearts 

is the Eye within the storm.  



he govinda he gopāla

keśava mādhava dīna doyāl – he govinda