Alas, we're drowning deep
In waves of colored hue,
Raging winds and thrashing gale
Doth blight all reason true.
Tongues of fire licking flesh
Hell in all directions bound,
Scores of fallen angels
Bleeding stains upon the ground.
Madness, death and courting friends
Do rule this land below,
The nether regions manifest
Upon unsaintly brow.
No hope, no chance, no remedy
Salvation fled in fear,
Age-old human tragedy's
Familiar laughing sneer.
And rows of dead rising up
To punishment deserved,
Just to fall again to dust
Only Mammon served.
Amidst this night of dread and fear
Our mindful Lord did send,
A rare and precious jewel of light
All broken dreams to mend.
Prabhupada—the Lord's dear wish
To ignite the darkened soul,
Pouring immortal nectar sweet
All cups to overflow.
Our vessels full and lips still moist
Shall we now begin our task,
To spread his mercy everywhere
All souls rejoice at last!
The following poem describes my life before and after meeting Srila Prabhupada. From the beginning of life I was being tossed here and there by the waves and whirlpools of the material modes of nature ("drowning deep in waves of colored hue"). Srila Prabhupada instantly changed everything by his all-merciful glance. I'm forever indebted to His Divine Grace for a new life—a new dawn—which he is so kindly offering to everyone who will hear his call and open their hearts.—Padmapani das, Cairo, 1980
