—Makanlal

Prabhupad, master of my soul, I am rotting in nescience of this dark foul world, thinking yet there is some fragment to enjoy.

Prabhupad, in death, in deep illusion, I am lost without your guidance; all is useless, endless pain. This heart is black with lust and false desire; yet, burns a spark fanned only by your mercy, that I may one day come running to prostrate in surrender under the shelter of your matchless lotus feet.

Oh master, my heart is aching for your love, but still this foolish stubborn mind would feign to turn your causeless love and mercy to the side.

But Prabhupad, there is no hope, no grain or spot of hope of even slight salvation excepting at your feet, serving in your limitless effulgence. Oh light of all lands, would that I could have no taste, no attraction whatsoever except to your loving kindness to serve you without end.

Endlessly I may wander and roam throughout creation, but nowhere can I find such loving kindness, master for all sentient souls. You are so kind and gentle, yet within your heart is burning the blaze of the strength of Lord Nrishinghadev, to save the searcher and wither the nonbeliever.

Oh Prabhupad, I am your disobedient son, who should grasp each word of sweet direction from your kind lips not fall instead behind. Yet I am helpless to your mercy and so may only beg that this poor wretched soul may stay forever in the service of your sweet and gentle feet.

-Makanlal
(ISKCON-San Francisco)