a poem by Citraketu dasa

There’s nothing
so sublime and pure
As knowledge
of the soul
And loving service
to the Lord
As part
unto the whole.

Of knowledge
’tis the ripened fruit
For which
the mystics long.
Whoever tastes it
finds a joy
Which makes
the spirit strong.

The faithful man
who is absorbed
In knowledge
such as this
Can conquer
over lust and hate
To taste
the highest bliss.

The doubting soul
can find no joy
In this world
or the next,
The faithless man
forever remains
and perplexed.

But one
who is a friend to God
And lives
for Him alone
Can feel
a special joy within,
To others
quite unknown.

Illusion spawned
these feverish doubts Which in
our heart
With sword of knowledge
firm in hand
her cunning lies.

Thus armed with knowledge
stand and fight.
O conqu’ror
of the foe,
And God
will give you victory
you may go.

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