The rise of morals has precarious roots,
When seen with eyes of sharp circumspection.
Time’s waves when rise do not as notions float
But hardened rock reveal themselves as earth;
As water, fire and air and solid things,
As persons, beasts and plants and trees awake,
Does time exist as objects senses seek,
Or does it pass as concepts’ abstractions?
The secret people call as Nature’s ways
Is hidden in the core of thinking’s forms.
The ego’s substance wild as tempest grown
Is vibration that holds to points in space.
Which are the sources fit for shunning here
If achievement from its opposite starts?
To overthrow one has to exalt first,
To take one has to give and then begin,
To weaken forces first do strengthen them.
It is the king who can renounce the all
For all he sees before he all rejects.
The world is not a prison house to flee,
The field of one’s own body is the world.
Who can beyond the body up arise
Can also rise above the world of things.
The whole of earth and heaven woven stand
In this tabernacle where one is lodged.
To heaven grasp the earth is not to fly
For heaven itself grossened is the world.
The world of forms gets rarefied above
In graduated transparency’s shades
And shines itself as heaven’s glorious bliss.
Who art thou then to have the one on hand
And cast away others as undivine.
The soul and body are as light and shade,
Where one abides the other too resides.
The ‘this’ is also ‘that’ and ‘that’ is ‘this’,
The ‘this’ and ‘that’ are not two opposites
But stand as one with twofold phase perceived,
What is affirmed carries its other too,
No one can bend unless he stood erect,
But standing firm is not to bend below.
The vacant one is also full to brim
And what is full looks as non-existent.
Non-action is not keeping quiet lone, 
But total act which holds creation’s grip  
In total thought wherein the One alone
Does think and act as single being’s throb.
Avoiding things is tension’s secret heart
For none avoids what clings to what one seeks.
To be a god is not to just be good,
But grapple good with what it hates as foe  
To turn the two as strands of spirit’s rope
By which to rise to height of perfection,
Hate not, love not, but be spontaneous
As supple child of inborn innocence.
When hungry eat, when tired sleep and rest.
When gay do walk, with friend be loving friend.
To lower oneself is a sign of strength.
To search for Truth indeed is mystery
As riding horse to find where horse has strayed.

Imbalance breeds the wars of history
Which reshuffle the components of life
And put them in their proper positions.
The Veda hymns, the ancient divine lore,
Beheld the One in all the varieties
In sun and moon, in stars and sky above,
In morning’s smile and evening’s sinking look;
In rain and thunder, lightning and the storm,
In day and night, in wind and earth below,
In fire here which warms the hearth of homes
And blazes hot in noon-meridian.
It was the eye which wholesome saw the soul
As living life in movement and statis.
The Veda’s god was not in temples or symbols
But spoke the daily language Nature knows;
The God was all, and everywhere his eyes
With caution see the minutest of grains,
The world ensemble twain divided though.

Truth, then, succeeds, but what is truth to man?
The meting justice is a form of truth,
Which is the due that each one claims as right.
But, what is due except what keeps alive
The frame of web which all environment is,
The two, the all, the world and universe?
And speech and thought and act which correspond
To actual facts as events in the world
Are truth perception’s on which conduct rests.

Yet, facts of world are set relatively
To contexts housing individuals.
Truth eternal, then, is not of this world
Though in this world as soul of things abides.
The social good, perception’s fact are both
Dependent on the timeless truth of truths,
Which speech defies and thought confounds by awe,
And ranges high as Self of space and time.
The needs of life are Lakshmi, Glory God’s,
And needs are neither loathe nor indulgence
But force of balance God inviting in
By life that loves not, hates not things of life,
Which is to live in things, not see them there
As objects senses’ or of mind’s concepts.

Those not blessed but pressed by fiery loves
Or hatreds reap varying fates at death.
The grossly craving physical realms’ delights
On death are born in regions mind directs,
To joy or grief as impulse gravitates.
The thought at death is cream of life’s regime
As butter churned from milk of career
Which whole of life’s desires constitutes.
The thought at end is fruit of tree of life,
Not one of links in chain of myriad thoughts.
The whole of soul is wrung out from the world
And total mass wrenched out to distance flees.
Here what you thought and what you felt or did
Will blossom forth as future destiny.
Suddenly deaths of even babes from womb
Are forms of action intense earlier done,
For birth and deaths are chains continuous,
With causes endless back of every breath.

To hell the worst do go that tortured lives;
To earth return the greedy longing souls;
To heav’n ascend the good and virtuous ones
But come hither when virtue’s forces dry,
To live again the life of drudgery
On plane of earth which Karma’s land they call.
On death the henchmen lord of justice sends
Escort the soul to universal judge,
The dread Yama who sans relent decides
The consequence of each one’s acts and thoughts.
As flies and gnats or beasts that roam in wild,
As birds and wolves or such subhuman shapes
The wretched lives of brutish souls enter
On death that wrings the last of farthings due;
Lo, man, beware, the sword of law has eyes.
On reaching throne of lord of justice hence
The soul queried does fumble memory lost.
When rod of justice comes on head in court,
The soul remembers, pleads guilty and sobs.
But justice cares not rheum from the eyes
And sentenced goes the soul to reap its deeds.
The works of gift and sacrifices made
In name of discarnated soul that wails
Do great assist in cleansing well its sins;
Else each for oneself left alone with deeds
Is shocked with strictness laws there operate.
When freed of debts by Karma’s rigoured tolls
To Rudra’s light the soul is lifted high,
From whence to Brahma’s realm eternal passed.

The greatest blest to solar brilliance go
By stages led by great divines does reach
The hallowed region Brahmaloka called,
But greater still are those who melt down here
And now in sea of heart of Absolute;
Such blessing rare indeed is gained by souls
Attained when tuned to every atom’s core
In all the cosmos; who can reach that state?
Who speak with leaves, with stones who do converse,
Who streams befriend, who sun and moon indwell,   
Who touch the stars, who wear the skies as clothes,
Who move with air, whose mind is world’s purpose,
Whose soul is centred in the universe,
‘Tis they alone, who Brahma’s Light attain.

How hard this thought, how toilsome this practice,
Since men, women and things do no more count,
And no one’s deed is more than frolic’s fun,
In this a dread reverberating field
Of living, throbbing universal sea!
Despondency in this, the path, has none,
Since sincere asking world’s abundance brings
And austere thoughts heaven’s perfection rain.
Did not the Lord as parent kind assure
That those who love and feel Him as the all
Shall He protect and them provide with means?
All wealth and blessing went with Kuchela,
The ill clad, famished, when the Lord him owned.
Whom Brahma loves the sands and stars embrace  
In firmness love’s, and all creation melts
To bathe him in immortal nectar sweet.