May the mystery of your love be solved by your love

varaṁ deva mokṣaṁ na mokṣāvadhiṁ vā

O Lord, I seek not liberation’s shore,
Nor the endless bliss in paradise’s store.
I ask not for gifts that glitter or gleam,
But love for you—that’s my only dream.

(Damodarashtakam — Verse 4, Line 1)

My dear Lord, love for you, my Lord, is a mystery—one that few care to unravel. Why anyone would turn from the glittering promises of this visible world to seek an invisible Lord is a mystery to most of humanity. For much of my life, I too have belonged to that mystified humanity, bewildered by the appeal of divinity.

When I did turn toward you, O all-accommodating Lord, it was not for you but from you—to gain something from you. And that, alas, is where much of religious humanity also resides. Yet your pure devotees reveal that bhakti means loving you simply because loving you is wonderful—because you are wonderful. Indeed, anyone who loves you becomes wonderful too.

Yet, O all-attractive Lord, as long as I am captivated by worldly things, pure love for you without seeking anything from you remains a mystery. But in the rare moments when you have mercifully given me a drop of the supreme sweetness that flows from relishing your supreme attractiveness, that mystery dissolves—the mystery of why the saints choose you is replaced by the mystery of why I would ever choose anything else. Thus the mystery of your love is solved—by your love itself, which reveals your incomparable and irresistible beauty.

O omnipotent Lord, may your loving mercy make those sublime memories rule my heart, driving it toward you, unhesitantly, undistractedly, and unrestrictedly.