In the realm of songs, where Krishna's glory soared, Gopi's, Meera's, and Radha's voices adored, But the tale I sing today, a different lore, Of Krishna with the destitute, forevermore.
In meadows of the poor, where life's toil is profound, Krishna's presence, in labor's symphony, is found, Amongst workers, craftsmen, toiling hearts so pure, He lives in the downtrodden, their strength to assure.
In the calloused hands of the laborer, he's the touch, In the sweat of the worker, he's the essence, as such, Krishna's heart beats with the destitute's refrain, In their struggles and triumphs, he finds his domain.
Not just in opulence or affluence, he's confined, But in the humblest abode, his love intertwined, With those who toil, with those who bear the weight, Krishna's grace shines bright, their burdens to abate.
In the quiet alleys, where poverty finds its place, Krishna's love is a refuge, a tender embrace, For in the hearts of the poorest, he lives so pure, A kindling light of hope, forever us to endure.
So let us sing of Krishna, in these souls so meek, In the laborer's sweat, in the destitute's cheek, For Krishna lives among them, forevermore, In their resilience and strength, he does implore.
~ Dr Intaj Malek
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