In this enigma of life proceeding to death Where we move unconsciously each day Living each moment with this frail and shortened breath Of past, present and future what can we say
But tread the path of inner discipline Aspiring to grow into the truth To feel within ourselves the fire begin Throwing away the false and the uncouth.
We live our lives less conscious than the stone And move as automatons through all our days And in our crowds then are we most alone To others we look for constant words of praise.
There is little we feel for which we must atone For ego led we believe that we have grown.
Poems Undated (1727)
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Narad
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