(CONTINUED)
PART – 7
Dear my son,
Knowledge unaccompanied by and with love,
And its fruits mercy and compassion,
Will not be effective and useful.
Rather, it will be dangerous and misleading.
Such ones with such knowledge
Won’t be really knowledgeable
Enabling them to know themselves.
Power unaccompanied by and with love,
And its fruits mercy and compassion,
Will not be effective and useful.
Rather, it will be dangerous and misleading.
Such ones with such power
Won’t be really powerful,
Able to have their own control.
*********** **********
Dear my son,
My love (my God) is not an untold story.
And my love (my God) is not a picture in imagination,
Not draw-able and never drawn by any hand.
It is not the grape in picture,
Never quenching the thirst
It is he, my love,
The only story told everywhere
And readable from any where.
It is he, my love,
The only picture seen and lived everyday
In the forms and frames of universes and microcosms
It is he, my love,
The story behind the making of this universe and microcosms.
It is he, my love,
The only picture, as beautiful and grand as this universe.
It is he, my love,
The only force behind each and every arrow send out.
It is he, my love,
The only eye that decides directions of the arrows sent out.
It is he, my love,
The only force with which arrows are moving forward.
It is he, my love,
The back bone of present and current, life.
It is he, my love
The soul of rivers that shapes and makes them flow.
It is he, my love,
The rhythm and tune that make music sound beautiful.
It is he, my love,
The window that gives seeds its space to sprout.
It is he, my love,
The fate maker and decider.
And It is he, my love,
The creator, sustainer and destroyer.
************** *********
Dear my son,
It is he my love everywhere.
I feel and touch him everywhere, every time.
The whole universe and this world is
Framed and filled only with my love.
Still, dear my son,
No one sees and feels my love
Even when they, unknowingly,
Feel, see and experience only my love.
Just because my love is
Colorless, formless and transparent.
My love reaches everywhere, everyone
Without being reached and caught
By anyone, anywhere.
************** *********
Dear my son,
It is just like one can’t see his own eyes.
It is jus like one can’t know
What he is seeing is with his own eyes
Unless he closes his eyes.
**************** ********
So, dear my son,
To be able to swim and bathe in my love
And to be able to breath and drink only my love
To engulf me with love
And to cause from me the overflow
Only of love and compassion,
Am I waiting for my death.
That will close my eyes
To let me know that
It was my eyes, my love,
That I was seeing.
It was my eyes that made me
See my love.
It was with my love, my eyes,
I was seeing anything and everything
That I loved.
And to enable me to enter into my love,
To make whole my being and body
Filled and framed only with love,
With the being of my love.
To make the whole universality
My being and body,
One and the same.
To make me not a different being
From my love
Or from this whole universality,
The frame and body of my love.
And to let me know that
I was the soul and body of my love,
This universality and life.
********** *********
Dear my son,
I care for my love more than me.
No where and no time
I can be without him.
I love my love
To surround and suffocate me
With his fullness and omnipresence
With his might and magic of omnipotence.
******** ********
Dear my son,
I can’t require for anything more
With those prayers of needs,
Taught by the preachers and priests,
The prayers that originate
From fear and desire of ignorance
The prayers that originate
From the feel of imperfection,
Looking as if I don’t know my love,
As if my love doesn’t know me,
As if I am different and separate from my love,
As if my love, keeping everything with him,
Did not or does not give what I need dearly.
************ **********
Dear my son,
My love is my nest
Wherein my soul takes shelter
Without having to have
Any other choice.
Dear my son
To my love I am its nest
Wherein my love will take shelter
Without having to have
Any other choice.
Dear my son,
I care and want to care my love
In the way I care myself
For not having to have any other choice.
*********** **********
Dear my son,
One can like,
As he can dislike too.
Likes and dislikes are made
For and with conditions and reasons.
********** ********
Dear my son,
Love mine is to myself.
Love mine is to my love.
One can love only himself.
One can love only his love.
Because love to oneself, his love, only
Can be with no conditions and reasons.
********* *********
Dear my son,
One may happen to like or dislike.
One may happen to hate or fight.
Just because of his love to himself.
To save and serve him, his love.
Than to love oneself, his love,
One has no other go.
And love as a word, in this way,
Has no opposite too.
Just for the reason
Love is for no reason.
And just for the reason
Love, for any reason,
Has no start and end.
********* ***********
Love is the inner soul and outer form
Of being and being-ness
Love is the core and meaning of
The current and present.
*************
Dear my son,
My love better knows me
And is with no condition on me.
My love is my God, my soul.
With the confidence I have in him
I can’t tell him
That I know better than him.
With the assurance I have of him
I can’t ask him anything for
To mean and say that
He didn’t know what I knew
Or he didn’t give what I need.
********* ********
Dear my son,
I talk with him whenever I feel,
With no barriers of time and space
In the tone and way my own
With the tongue and content my own
With no question of fear and forethought.
And with no question of having for me and my love
Any different tone and tongue
********* *********
Dear my son,
When in real love
I can’t get even a fraction of second
To be away from my love,
And can’t spend one single moment
Without talking to him
Or without being plugged in him.
All the energy I have is
The energy he gives
Or send through me.
I am heated up, because
He is there behind me connected.
I have all the great knowledge and confidence.
He is capable of making me lack nothing
And to fill in me with all
What I have, don’t have
And what I need.
So is my prayer to him,
Neither with a claiming tone,
To mean that
I know of my needs than
My God, my love,
Nor with a tone of complaint or allegation,
To mean that
He, God, my love, did not equip me
With what I need in my life and after.
********* **********
Dear my son,
I don’t pray to my love
The way priests and preachers do
For listing don’t haves
And to put blame to be wrong
To ill-equip me.
Dear my son
My prayers is with two submission
First, I know not better of my needs
Second, I know not better than my love,
To whom I pray.
My prayer is my feel for my love,
My God.
My prayer is the vapors that go up from me
When I am really boiled with heat of and feel for him.
I can’t help, dear my son, but pray to my love.
*********** *******
Still, dear my son,
Tell me why I should make prayer,
The way preachers and priests do,
Using the tongue and content alien to me,
Especially if I am sure
That my love has well-equipped me.
If, my love gives and fills in me
With all what I need
Without waiting for one my complaint
Or without waiting for me to list
My complaints.
Dear my son,
So, am I breathing in and out
Only my love.
As I never know better than my love
Who gave me and filled in me
With all what I need as my entitlements.
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