The cat held its young in its mouth, <br />Its incesors gnashing into the new born's flesh. <br />The young hung limp, as though meditating: <br />A frail weanling, drifting painless in its mother's love. <br />It was guided, protected by a better force. <br /> <br />Am I not that kitten, and my Maker, the cat? <br />He holds my hand, guiding me through light and dark. <br />He holds on to me, not I to Him, <br />Like the mother holds onto the weanling cat. <br />No, not even the holding on is my karma. <br /> <br />[Based on the philosophy of 'Marjarakisora', Sri Vaishnavism]<br /><br />Krishnarasa Seshadri<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/not-my-karma/
