Morning Poem

[Guest guest]

SADHAK'S SAD LAMENT

 

We're all dreamers, dreaming in God's hands,

Let's wake up, enquire, break our karma bands,

There's not much time before our destined death,

We pray to remember our Self, with every breath.

 

Narrow is the pilgrim's wicker gate,

Such is wicked Jiva's wretched fate,

Walking on a knife-like razor's edge,

Fenced in by a thorny prickly hedge.

 

Many aspire, but a few are called

Their prisoned souls are all enwalled;

But well chosen are those happy few

Refreshed by Guru's Grace, like morning dew.