Meeting a Mystic, a Disciple of Paramahansa Yogananda

.

.

She was young and I was young,

but she was mature enough to be called a spiritual giant,

and I was mature enough to know that it was true.

When I saw her across the lawn my homing instinct took me,

and as she walked here and there I floated,

entranced, behind her right shoulder.

And when she turned and looked her love into me her

invisible hand painted a line of flames across the sky

and I lay in that fire, touching the two horizons.

.

.

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