A love not of this world, but the reason you came into it.
There is a certain kind of longing that doesn’t begin in this lifetime.
It wakes up in your chest when you hear a flute in a bhajan, or when the sky turns that shade of Radha-blue just before it rains.
It’s not sadness, not desire—it’s deeper.
A pull from something ancient. A voice that whispers,
You have loved before. You have known Him before.
And suddenly the world feels too small to hold your heart.
This is the love of Krishna.
Not the Krishna of books or rituals, but the Krishna your soul remembers when your ego is too tired to pretend.
He is not a God you worship.
He is a memory you ache for.
He is not the answer.
He is the ache that leads you back to yourself.
You see, the reason modern love feels hollow is because somewhere in our bones, we’ve tasted a love that was total.
A love that didn’t need words. A glance was enough.
A touch wasn’t necessary—the presence alone dissolved lifetimes of longing.
That was Radha’s truth. And it’s yours too.
No human can carry the weight of that kind of expectation.
And so we suffer—not because love doesn’t exist,
But because we mistake Krishna-love for human love.
We want someone to look at us like He did Radha.
To speak to our silence. To hold our shattering without asking us to stop.
But how could they?
He was not in love with her.
He was the love.
The essence. The truth. The stillness behind her every storm.
And Radha—oh Radha.
She didn’t lose Him.
She became Him.
Because the only way to keep Krishna…
is to become the one He never leaves.
This is the secret most hearts aren’t ready for:
That the pain you carry is holy.
It is your soul’s way of remembering the One it once melted into.
Not in fairy tale forests.
But in the formless, endless dance of consciousness and longing.
The flute you hear in dreams?
That’s your soul calling itself home.
The lump in your throat when you hear His name?
That’s not emotion. That’s recognition.
And when no love in this world feels enough—
that is the moment He enters.
Not to fill the void,
but to remind you that you are the void.
You are the silence He plays His song through.
And when the tears fall—not out of pain, but out of remembrance—
you will know…
He was never separate.
He was just waiting.
Inside your ache.
Inside your longing.
Inside the part of you that never stopped loving.
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