With Love
Among
The unloving
He looks deeply into things
And sees their nature
He discriminates
And reaches the end of the way.
He does not linger
With those who have home
Nor with those who stray
Wanting nothing,
He travels alone.
He hurts nothing.
He never kills
He moves with love among the unloving
With peace and detachment
Among the hungry and querulous
Like a mustard seed from the point of a needle
Hatred has fallen from him,
And lust, hypocrisy and pride.
He offends no one
Yet he speaks the truth.
His words are clear
But never harsh.
Whatever is not his
He refuses,
Good or bad, great or small.
He wants nothing from this world
And nothing from the next.
He is free.
He looks deeply into things
And sees the nature.
He discriminates
And reaches the end of the way.
No self
Actualization
A man is not born to mastery.
A master is never proud
He does not talk down to others
Owning nothing, he misses nothing
He is not afraid.
He is not tremble.
Nothing bind him.
He is infinitely free
So cut through
The strap and the thong and the rope.
Loosen the fastenings.
Unbolt the doors of sleep
And awake.
The master endures
Insults and ill treatment
Without reacting.
For his spirit is an army.
He is never angry.
He keeps his promises.
He never strays, he is determined
This body is my lost, he says
Like water on the leaf of Lotus flower
Or a mustard seed on the point of needle,
He does cling.
For he has reached the end of the sorrow
And has laid down the burden.
He is
The moon
Desiring nothing, doubting nothing,
Beyond judgment and sorrow
And the pleasure of the senses,
He has moved beyond time.
He is pure and free.
How clear he is
He is the moon.
He is serene.
He shines.
For he has traveled
Life after life
The muddy and treacherous of illusion.
He does not tremble
Or grasp or hesitate.
He has found peace.
Calmly
He lets go off life
Of home and pleasure and desire.
Nothing of men can hold him.
Nothing of Gods can hold him.
Nothing in all creation can hold him.
Desire has left him
Never to return
Sorrow has left him,
Never to return
No yesterday,
No tomorrow,
No today
He is calm
In him the seed of renewing life
Has been consumed.
He has conquered all the inner worlds.
With dispassionate eye
He sees everywhere
The falling and the uprising.
And with great gladness
He knows that he has finished.
He has woken from his sleep.
And the way he has taken
Is hidden from men
Even from spirits and gods,
By virtue of his purity
In him there is no yesterday
No tomorrow
No today.
Possessing
Nothing
Wanting nothing
Possessing nothing,
Wanting nothing.
He is full of power,
Fearless, wise, exalted.
He has vanquished all things.
He sees by virtue of his purity.
He has come to the end of the way,
Over the river of many lives,
His many deaths.
Beyond the sorrow of the hell,
Beyond the great joy of heaven,
By virtue of his purity.
He has come to the end of the way
All that he had to do, he has done.
And now he is one.
Source: Dhammapada
nice one.. beautiful poetry..
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