NOT ME BUT THEE
All power is Thakur's. I am a non-entity, an empty drum that sounds well when he beats it at his will. Swamiji said he was a voice without form and I am but a form without a voice. For the voice is his that speaks and I speak not. I can hardly claim that the form is mine as well for it is he who dons the cosmic garb of name and form, not I. Substance he is, membrane am I. The sound emerges from silence free and floods the soul that thrills for long to its ancient tune. Nor body nor mind nor the spirit free, none of these am I. I am but the dust of the Master's feet, born in the womb of stellar configurations to adorn its cherished end.
In this nothingness of being, I find my existence in the Master whose soul suffuses all of sentience and it fills me, too, with an essence all its own. I care for none myself for I cease to exist the moment I care to be and fill up to live the moment I give up the little self which no longer am I nor I ever was.
Let this be the song of the soul then that you live through yourself that in folly I called me. Witness of this bliss I shall but be in trace measure to bear with imposition none on the free flow of grace, lest the touch of my self, lost and gone for now, resurrect to sully, taint the luminous being of the Lord of my life that I breathe through his breath, of the source of my love that in his heart do I feel.
Let there be no me
But thee, but thee, but thee.
Written by Sugata Bose
All power is Thakur's. I am a non-entity, an empty drum that sounds well when he beats it at his will. Swamiji said he was a voice without form and I am but a form without a voice. For the voice is his that speaks and I speak not. I can hardly claim that the form is mine as well for it is he who dons the cosmic garb of name and form, not I. Substance he is, membrane am I. The sound emerges from silence free and floods the soul that thrills for long to its ancient tune. Nor body nor mind nor the spirit free, none of these am I. I am but the dust of the Master's feet, born in the womb of stellar configurations to adorn its cherished end.
In this nothingness of being, I find my existence in the Master whose soul suffuses all of sentience and it fills me, too, with an essence all its own. I care for none myself for I cease to exist the moment I care to be and fill up to live the moment I give up the little self which no longer am I nor I ever was.
Let this be the song of the soul then that you live through yourself that in folly I called me. Witness of this bliss I shall but be in trace measure to bear with imposition none on the free flow of grace, lest the touch of my self, lost and gone for now, resurrect to sully, taint the luminous being of the Lord of my life that I breathe through his breath, of the source of my love that in his heart do I feel.
Let there be no me
But thee, but thee, but thee.
Written by Sugata Bose
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