An encounter with the heart

I don’t remember when I was born...
My first summer or shoes ever worn...I can't I recall the light shining my eyes, The taste of mother's milk or my first blue sky. I can't recollect the first time I was amazed
The joy of a new experience, the beginning of a new phase. I seem unable to picture the first time I sat and watched the screen come alive telling stories paintings of a bright future, the past. It seems unreal as if it never happened. Memories so far gone they only leave a flavour on my mind reminding me that I have come so far only to leave it all behind, forgotten.
I don't mind. Its sweetness is in its fleeting nature, more enjoyable knowing it's only ever now, as is its bitterness. Wow. As I watch my life flash before my eyes I realize the now wasn't what was seen heard or tasted, it wasn't what saved or what was wasted, it wasn't my goals hopes, dreams or desires. It was me...I realize this in a flash the comedy of my endeavour, striving to find joy by filling every moment with something else, someone else...what a fool. It was me. I remembered myself and recognized my folly and in that moment joy without bounds erupted from deep within me, a standing ovation from the depths of my being a confirmation approving the conclusion of my contemplation, I was at peace, I was peace, I was stillness and life. I was forever and never at the same time. I was light and darkness happiness and sadness I knew no bounds no limitations, it was me. 
I saw, in a flash, aeons of experience, leaving behind bread trails to remind me not to go too deep, don't go off the rails don't get lost and when all else fails I would know, it was me. The universe was my expression a lesson in transgression against my own being. Hide and seek in endless cycles a true game of wits and mystery. The battle between good and evil, light and darkness, forgetfulness and memory, sweet sweet memory.
In remembrance, bliss is really not a fable, not a myth or unreal, really, I mean really really. Life is my story I am the writer, the reader and the watcher. I am the film the screen and the vision of it all, for real. 
As I dived deeper into the reality of my true self I found myself aware of a greater self, it was me and yet it was not. I felt his presence and sensed his gaze and there I wept for days and days. Tears of joy and tears of sorrow tears of regret and tears of hope. I felt his kindness and felt his love, oh his love. Incomparable to anything I had known, been shown, or could ever imagine being sown within my heart. I burst. I exploded with emotion. This was his art to make me cry, a beautiful cry to show me what love truly was. Artistically expressing his wish was to help me understand the meaning of the whispers that called my heart to him. At all time there was only him, why hadn't I seen it before? Patterns of divinity scattered through all of history nature bearing the marks of his very finger. The sound my intuition my guiding light? My teachers my friends my relatives my might. Oh, I might fall into a swoon staring into the moon that is his face, pure love, an ocean of bliss unparalleled in all the three worlds. Lotus-like eyes staring deeply into my soul they are honey, my wealth my money. Surrender, I hear heart my exclaim, surrender...I beg a name a token or a feather. His name is Krsna....he was me, I was him and yet we will always be as waves are to the ocean and rays are to the sun. Simultaneously one and different just so love can be.