
Although He stands before Me, smiling like the moon, my heart trembles as if lost in storm. O sakhī! I see Him with these eyes, yet feel Him miles away. His voice, sweet as flute-song, echoes—but I doubt it’s real. What cruel trick of love is this, Where presence feels like absence?
Rūpa Gosvāmī, Ujjvala-nīlamaṇi
Who do I feel love for when I am alone? Why are my feelings strongest when there is no one there to love. Why do emotions—sometimes heavy, sometimes light—rush through my heart? Where are they going? Where do they come from? Do they arise from another heart? Will they reach another heart? Will my love be felt? Or will this storm of emotions that steals my peace of mind be lost to the world like water poured out in the desert?
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