He's a little boy, within an old man's body;
Tries his best to live, a life that's known as Godly.
As that little boy, his vision is World change;
But as a man within the World, his vision seems deranged.
He's without formal allegiance, without strategic ties;
He's clumsy navigating, contemporary politics and lies.
His family abandons him, sometimes provides a nod;
His friends just laugh with disbelief, at what he touts and lauds.
He knows Northern Winter's cold; He knows Southern Summer's hot;
He knows a man is measured, by what others think he's got.
But he's unmoved by riches, it is the Truth for which he searches;
And he finds it within and throughout, rather than just alliance with Churches.
So he leads a pauper's life; some perceive him as being lazy;
And when he wields his Prophetic voice, many dismiss him as being crazy.
He ponders then what's left to do, he knows it's the Truth he reaches;
But how can he share any message, to an audience detesting preachers.
So he's left in limbo, wanting a family to begin;
But he needs a house, family, friends, and a community to win.
He spends his days in computers, and nestled in his books;
He walks the streets on guard, receiving different looks.
He spends much his day alone, even when surrounded by other peeps;
He cushions himself within his thoughts, because few can tread that deep.
He wastes himself in tissues, earning the title, "wanker;"
abusing images of women, cuz he doesn't have to thank her.
What other woman can love him, reside in his Universe;
Build a life together, and satisfy his thirst.
On That Day he sees her, and he casually takes note;
He searches to find plus, and if it has been wrote.
He experiences a draw, "cosmic" describes it best;
She satisfies the requirements, of his clumsy, compatibility test.
His ego is on humble, his sense of duty drives him on;
Inspired by her being, he tries to write a song.
It's only an estimation, but he writes of love and joy;
He writes of Kismet connexion, between a girl and a boy.
He's so used to riding solo, without people who can bother;
But within his sanctity, he ponders welcoming another.
She encourages him to stand, against the voices that tell him choose:
Between the death of the martyrs, and the forsaking of Sadhus.
He sees with her a life, and a family on his side;
But these are nascent images, in his mind does it reside.
He shares his words with her, and within her he's invested;
And the World round observes, to see his Prophethood tested.
He knows the Divine is within him, and within her too;
And he knows Divine Will exists, beyond what his ego wants to do.
He must learn her story, before she speaks a word;
He must reach beyond himself, beyond what he has yet heard.
The Prophet's life is tenuous, there's an absence of any guarantee;
Harder still to convince a wife, to within him find her glee.
But he sleeps rest assured, regardless which the door,
Everything's for a reason, it happens all before.
He knows he's invincible, when it's done for Heaven's sake;
But he lingers in the uncertain, will she sooth a Prophet's Ache.
There is a “righteous mountain.” It is arduous and leads to transcendence. Amidst the climb, there is a plateau; with streams, trees, and fields. It is ideal to settle, and some do; whilst others continue to the apex. Some ascend and some descend. Every point of interaction is a plateau. And when engaging another, there is an absence of judgment. Everyone on the plateau exists on equal footing. And those who search to be increasingly righteous, simply continue up the mountain.
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