Let no one weep for me, or celebrate my funeral with mourning; for I still live, as I pass to and fro through the mouths of men.
et me not pray to be sheltered from dangers, but to be fearless in facing them. Let me not beg for the stilling of my pain, but for the heart to conquer it.
Christmas, here again. Let us raise a loving cup: Peace on earth, goodwill to men, and make them do the washing up.
No mind, no form, I only exist; Now ceased all will and thought. The final end of the Nature’s dance; I am it whom I have sought. A realm of bliss bare, ultimate, beyond both knower and known. A rest immense I enjoy at last; I face the one alone. I have crossed the secret ways of life; I have become the Goal. The Truth immutable is revealed; I am the way, the God-Soul. My spirit aware of all the heights, I am mute in the core of the Sun. I barter nothing with time and deeds; my cosmic play is done.
