Oh, right.

Mortals cannot find you with their eyes.

But

These pair of eyes, Krishna

Find you

In your mere absence.

In the flame of my golden lamp,

I see you.

In the quiet moment between two heartbeats,

I hear you.

Everytime I smell butter,

I smell you.

Everytime the flute brushes against my skin

The one you left me

I feel you.

The swarm of bees

Still hum the lilting tunes of your

Beloved lute.

The trees and cows

Still bow in obeisance.

Tell me, Krishna.

How have I been so senseless all this while?

Isn't it ironic?

How you're

Nowhere.

Yet,

Everywhere.