Did I just say Goddess?

Now that's the thing, Krishna

I just don't know what to call myself

Some say Goddess

Build me gigantic temples

Where my soul finds breathing a cumbersome task

Instead of building me gardens.

They forget

I was always a garden girl.

Some say that in fact,

I never existed.

I was the stuff of a poet's

Imagery.

But that has been addressed before.

And then

Some say

"She was only human

A milkmaid

Just so hopelessly in love with a dark

Rain cloud hued cowherd

What was his name? Oh yes, Krishna

They spent many eternities together

But He never wed her.

Bah! Is this even a bond then? "

It does not anger me anymore.

I find it amusing

I go into fits of giggles

We don't owe them justifications, beloved.

Don't you worry.

But what does anger me

Is the fact

That I don't have an individual existence.

True, we are one.

We are in fact

Each other's halves.

But

When you can be recognised

For so much more than just a Radha

Why can't I be recognised

For much much more than

Just a Krishna?

The thought tires me.

I go to sleep.

Sleep has answers to most of our problems, Krishna.

Once those eyes close

There is a lot to think about.

A whole new world to go to.

Isn't that why your eyes are

Always closed

In that infinite form of yours?

I wake up to the answers.

I have

Never wanted

An individual existence.

I have never

Wanted to be

More than just your beloved.

More than just your soul.

There can be a Radha.

There are too many Radhas on this planet.

But

There is only

The Krishna.

Maybe

Just maybe

That is why

They still do not know

So much about me

Even their bulky books with difficult, poetic verses

Do not mention me.

I just

Didn't want to be mentioned.

For anything

Other than being

Your eternal heartthrob.

And I go into fits of evil giggles

Again.