My friend told me, "You seem crazy when you speak!
If you want to appear nice, better don't speak!"
And went on, further,
"You must not only be quiet, but should write!"
I pondered the paradox of expression and its means.
Does beauty of the Self seek words, or praise, or even recognition?
Or would it find approval just by being itself, here in the heart?
While the world mostly sleeps through a dark night,
a secret wakes up the soul, with deep spirit in sight;
In the silent darkness, the soul sees neither its faults nor others'.
Music pauses, crossing the distance between the notes —
the lower one awaits the Higher one's grace;
When emptied of all noise, the low and the high become One!
In oneness, when words have gone naught, the music begins.
Oh friend, what can I write then?
Would the beauty of the Self be denied,
because others can no more see or hear?
Come, let me share the secret:
My treasures have been found in you, for yours in mine.
Be the voice, and I, your words;
Be the instrument, and I, the notes;
Be the night, and I, your moon.
In oneness, let’s complete our expressions!
Dwijaha says, wanderers know;
for the Creator exists (in) the creation!
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