State held Christ at ransom

ARTIST Wallace Smith DATE 1922

ARTIST Wallace Smith DATE 1922

The world prescribed a different fate, A line drawn straight by king and state, But in one glance, the line grew blurred— A truth was spoken, though no word. A secret current, deep and strong, Pulled me from the rightful throng. To drink a draft not meant for me, Was to find all else was sea, And you, the shore and the drowning deep, The vow I broke, the one I keep. They call it treason, this sweet fire, This answering of soul’s desire. But what is law to the tide’s pull? What is a crown, when the heart is full? Our stolen hour, a stolen gem, Is worth the thorns on this bright stem. So let the jealous courtiers scheme, And sever us in waking dream. They cannot touch what they can’t see— The hidden forest, you and me, Where two are one, and one is all, And waiting for the shadow’s fall. For in this life, or one to be, Your hand is what belongs to me. A fate not kind, but ours, and true, My sacred crime, I am with you.

Bhagavad Gita 8.24 अग्निर्ज्योतिरहः शुक्लः षण्मासा उत्तरायणम् । तत्र प्रयाता गच्छन्ति ब्रह्म ब्रह्मविदो जनाः ॥ agnir jyotir ahaḥ śhuklaḥ ṣhaṇ māsā uttarāyaṇam tatra prayātā gachchhanti brahma brahma-vido janāḥ Fire, light, daytime, the bright fortnight, and the six months of the northern solstice of the sun—taking this path of light, the knowers of Brahman attain Brahman

tataḥ sandadhmau tasyāśhu mahāśaṅkhaṃ pitāmahaḥ abhimanyuśh cha vīraśh cha sahadevaśh cha pārthivaḥ... tataḥ śaṅkhāśh cha bheryaśh cha paṇavānaka-gomukhāḥ sahasaivābhyahanyanta sa śabdastumulo'bhavat ...Conches and kettle-drums, tabors, drums and cow-horns, were all blared and beaten at once. That sound became tumultuous.

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