This tricky play of
crests and troughs…
As the cold sea
breeze hits the soaring waves,
One has to know when
to ride and when to wait…
When the ocean is
your guru, you might forget,
This game's point is
not to get mighty wet…
You should soar
above the waves so high,
Life's dreams and
visions make you fly…
Lost in your Guru's
loving grace,
Judging nothing, no person or place,
Skate smoothly over
any karmic whirlpool,
You're better than any memory-hugging sinking fool…
Doesn’t matter who
made the karmic puddle in jest,
On my dear ocean
Guru's chest,
Smoothly do I stay
aboard and continue to surf,
No matter who or
what tries to rock my home turf…
