Poem 38

Whether we like it or we don’t, the human state is inseparable from contradictions. One is to make efforts, when we know that everything is done by Baba, and that we are so negligible (verse1)

On the one hand I complain of the days — there is nothing to do
(For all the works of men — as well as sun-whirl and earth-spin — are done by you);

Another is that we face the paradox of desiring to become desireless. (verse2). ‘Stone’ conveys both the intractable nature of the self and its bearing of the pattern of our past impressions so hard to eradicate.

On the other hand I desire this stone of me to become dust,
To kiss your feet with lips not sculptured by greed, anger and lust.

Furthermore we seem to have to choose between trivial play, or making efforts which come from wanting to protect and benefit ourselves, like the cocoon (verse 3). How economically the verse can sum thing up!

A man is either a child happy with its bright balloon,
Or a larva spinning another protective cocoon.

From verse 4 on there is a new note of acceptance. The only way to become a precious jewel is to accept that we must be ground to dust. Lords of the universe we may be but must accept our body limitations and mortality.

Let the mills grind on. (Time is only the motion of them)
They cut and polish each dust-grain into a perfect gem.

Each of us is lord and master of the universe
Buying a six by four land-plot and a ride in a hearse.

The tombstone of verse 6 defies death for one who has found an acceptance by Love for his song.Again all is subsumed, all is reconciled in the personal meeting with the Beloved. There is no longer any contradiction between action and non-action.

Write on my tombstone: Here lies one who never did belong,
But died gloriously, for Love accepted his song.

The rhymed verses have made it not a statement but a song, a celebration of Oneness in love.

I came here in ignorance, but have accomplished wisdom’s supreme goal —                                                                                                                             That to which all men journey — the meeting of the Beloved of one’s soul.