The Peril of Praise

Poetic Rendering

They raised me high with their flowery words
but every blossom hid a thorn.
Their praises were knives of gold,
glittering, yet cutting deep.
They crowned me with applause,
clapped their hands around me
and my heart trembled,
for I knew the wound beneath the wreath.
O Koodalasangamadeva,
if I am truly Yours,
shield me from such praise
You who are the very measure of truth and justice.

Spiritual Context

Interpretation

The Cosmic Reality

Shata Sthala

Practical Integration

Modern Application

Essence

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