I just read Jahnavi’s Kartik poem. The last couple of lines reminded me of this great Ezra Pound poem:
IN A STATION OF THE METRO
The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.
I think the point of her poem was to remind us all of Krishna, yet here I am remembering this poem from my college girl days. Pound’s strip to the bare bones poem always seemed kind of mystical to me. We are brought together–united in our own individual purpose– and then we disperse.
There is no permanence.