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the nectar seemed to me poison; my lapse may be pardoned, Lord! Give me a good mantra that
my whole life may become peaceful, quiet,
by and by, then,
a time may come in my life
that I become a shelter
full of fearlessness
to those seeking shelter,
and that too, a most humble one."
At this the craftsman says: "Mantra is neither good nor bad,
good and bad is one's mind.
Only the steady mind is that great mantra,
and
the unsteady mind is a self-willed machine of sin
one is the stair of happiness
and the other is the draught of misery."
Again the thorn expresses his curiosity:
"What calamity is moha (delusion) and what art is moksh?
I may be told their implication, not explanation;
by implication one is rewarded, by long sky-kissing explanations the value of the original gets lessened,
right valuation gets lost.
108: Silent Soil
