If I could travel back in time to whisper counsel
to myself, how gladly I’d confess my lack to gain
the chance to learn—to sacrifice the self that was
before I grasped that pain’s a teacher and thus
help abounds. Too rarely do we squarely face a
fact so plain to others: that we are incomplete.
Yet by this want—O wondrous hunger—You
guide some grateful few within, even as the most
wretched despair, ‘I suffer, therefore You’re not.’
Enthroned upon that searing plate, He sang of
Your doings as sweet; wholly One with the Lord
supreme, the perfect Gurū reigns complete.
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