March 6, 2022
In the alleyways and cul-de-sacs of life Where one is led and often goes astray In the unpleasant fields of daily strife We often lose the knowledge of the Way. The path is challenging and strewn with stones Of sharpness injuring our way towards the goal: No prayer, no aspiration of the mind atones For errors the body visits on the soul. A jumble of fragments humans seem to be For residing within is a hostile force at work. We seem estranged from the divinity And move as automatons who start and jerk At every seeming opportunity. When shall we wake and know ourselves within And the work of transformation at last begin?
Poems Undated (1727)
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Narad
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