I met a saint. She wore white for purity. She hugged me and whispered in my ear. She was large and soft. A multi-tasker, she conducted her business with several assistants while blessing the mortals. She was in fact CEO in action. One person nursed her with a bottle of water. Another fanning behind her.
Many were blessed that day. Some cried. Some swooned. Some whirled about in the airy room, exotic in their layers of translucent white, lost in ecstasy.
The property was given to the saint by her devotee. It was a ranch with animals and a lotus pond. It had a cafeteria to accommodate hundreds.
Moral: It is better to love a living saint than to love a dead one.
Image from himalayanacademy.com.
I met a saint the other night
She was dressed in purest white
What can I say about a saint
Except to say, A saint I ain’t.