Poetry Archive

God’s World of Happiness, Is on the Verge of Tears; For all His Love and Workmanship, Has been devalued through the years. So now the time has come, For God to come on Earth,

The Lord said In the Gita: In every age when this Earth Is dominated by sin And evil prevails, I descend on Earth To redeem humanity. However, while descending Even the Lord has to

Those days, those days in Prasanthi, not a care in the world waiting for the Lord of the Universe Rainbow sequined saris flutter like colorful prayer flags in the sultry, warm breezes Women devotees,

The Sarathi calls on every heart Offering His equestrian art; He will curb the fiery steeds Of tongue, the eye, and ear; He will overwhelm your wily foe With His will, though He holds the

With fiery tremor, my heart sighs His Name. Silent, scarcely with breath, in profound rapture, He appears …All the sweetness of the world in one tiny Form! Graceful as a dancer, He approaches. No.

Am I a real Sai Devotee? Am I striving always to deserve the grace of Sai? Am I true in word, thought, and deed? Have I read and understood the instructions for a good

Pray thus: Let my thoughts, pure and holy, arise, O Lord, as incense to Thee. Let my Heart—Thy shrine—beat in rapture, O Lord, for Thee. Let my hands bestow radiant acts of service, Lord,

Why wander far and near to seek? He dwells within thy heart; Yes, turn within and find Him there, He longs to see you start. But clean your heart before you seek, And offer

Thou art the light of all creation, my well beloved! From out Thy lips doth blow the mighty winds That sway the trees in dancing rhythms, And yet again Thou art the very trees

Our wonderful Lord is so great There is none whom He will hate By following him, we His children Shall surely prosper in life’s long run. His powers are so great His word makes

I am the water of life, Come to Me in the fullness of your mortality And fill your cup and drink the Water of immortality. I shall cleanse you, and purify you. I shall

To me Baba is everything; I am but insignificant thing; I write because He holds my pen; He alone sings and teaches all men. I echo when He sings or talks; I am nothing