Blame words invade my sacred space
Pressing images upon my hesitant mind.
Casting seeds of fear, greed, doubt and lust.
Media is the power, “recorder of Truth”--
Judge, jury, executioner, undertaker,
Conscience keeper and moral inquisitor.

You did something shady they say,
Which makes you not what you are.
You deserve to be punished they say,
And quote some figures on police paper.
I do not think they will let up their attack
They are strong, determined and vicious.

Yet alone as you are, in the cold mountain
Many having deserted you at first light, so many..
Rush not to judgement, you said to us,
Be calm in your sacred space, be unclutched.
Bright and divine did shine your lamp
But a lurid storm sought its extinguishment.

What you did teach me, only I know inside
How to live, laugh, and feel free.
It matters not to me what they say you did
For you did never deceive me, and misled me not.
You showered me with light, lit up the path ahead
Does it matter the make or color of the lamp?

I take heart, my Guru for such are lessons
Existence sends us when She seeks our growth.
Part verily of that Causeless Auspiciousness
Endowing divinity into all universal truth.
Material powers are ranged against you
But they are shallow, and Grace will prevail.