Stop To Smell The Roses

How in this human form shall I live?

My sentiments to whom shall I give?


Of Supreme Lord we are meant to think,

His nectarean beauty the eyes to drink.


Of some onlookers in Janakpur this was the opinion,

Not happy with King Janaka’s oath decision.


A match for Sita Rama was ideal,

His lifting of bow destiny to seal.


Competition in maya’s fever now forget,

And in worshiping Supreme Lord your mind set.


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