YASODARA
As she wandered through the campus, in the halls she spied,
A man whose presence stirred shadows of past lives.
An echo of cloudy memories she could not place,
She ran to catch him, but he vanished without a trace.
Days and weeks passed in a fruitless quest,
She sought him tirelessly, but found no rest.
Perhaps a missing link in samsara’s chain,
In the endless cycle, her search in vain.
Within samsara’s wheel, we endlessly roam,
In search of our loved ones, our eternal home.
Through myriad births, our souls are intertwined,
In each new life, our hearts we find.
The tale of Yasodhara and Siddhartha speaks,
Of a love enduring through peaks and creeks.
As Sumedha and Sumitta, they pledged anew,
In every existence, their love stayed true.
From the realms of gods to human frames,
Through joy and pain, through fortune and flames,
Their spirits met, their paths always aligned,
A bond eternal, endlessly combined.
Just as Plato in his Symposium penned,
Of love’s great power, his words transcend.
Two halves of a whole, eternally they seek,
Each other’s essence, in every heartbeat.
In the dance of rebirth, we too partake,
Seeking our soulmates, for our heart’s sake.
Through countless lives, we strive and find,
The one whose soul perfectly aligns.
In samsara’s cycle, love leads us on,
Guiding our spirits from dusk till dawn.
In every birth, we find our kin,
A journey of love, forever to begin.
So let us cherish, in each breath,
The love that triumphs over death.
For in samsara, love eternally reigns,
Binding our souls in unbreakable chains.
She opens her text, the lecturer speaks,
Of Joyce’s “The Dead” and Lawrence’s peaks.
In “Odour of Chrysanthemums,” love’s illusion shown,
A chase through ages, eternally unknown.
She ponders deeply, hearts lost in time,
Much like Yasodhara’s love, sublime.
Traversing centuries, sansaric ties,
Only to lose it, with sorrowed sighs.
She closes her book, thoughts adrift,
The weight of love, a heavy gift.
With a quiet resolve, she walks away,
From class and dreams, to face the day.
