“The Guru is not the physical form, so contact will remain even after his physical form vanishes.”
I am a pipe the wind blows through,
Be still, it is the wind that sings.
Save me, O Lord, from otherness! And yet
There is no other nor no me to save;
Thou only art, in countless forms declared;
This world and body are not me.
They are a dream from which to wake.
Whatever in their fate may be
Cannot destroy The vibrant joy
Or turn to night the bright daybreak.
Man and the moon have choice, yet it is not
Whether to go or stay; immutable
Their path and phases of their path; their lot
Written in light, most ineluctable.