A disciple in training will comprehend this earth, the realm of death and the realm of the gods. A disciple in training will investigate the well-taught Path of Virtue, even as an expert garland-maker picks flowers.
Sweet be the glances we exchange, our faces showing true concord; Enshrine me in your heart and let one spirit dwell within us.
No mind, no form, I only exist; Now ceased all will and thought. The final end of the Nature’s dance; I am it whom I have sought. A realm of bliss bare, ultimate, beyond both knower and known. A rest immense I enjoy at last; I face the one alone. I have crossed the secret ways of life; I have become the Goal. The Truth immutable is revealed; I am the way, the God-Soul. My spirit aware of all the heights, I am mute in the core of the Sun. I barter nothing with time and deeds; my cosmic play is done.
