Teach me to know that you are the greatest and only Teacher.
Not to weep when I cannot find tears
To show appreciation to weeping.
That in this life nothing matters,
But love itself.
That your mercy
Is the only route to the gate of victory.
How the world can forgive herself
And start anew
Where the former things are a relegation.
Teach me, for I am a willing pupil.
That the flesh matters not, that it is a covering
Of temporary comfort.
That favour most divine
Qualifies than all intelligence.
Teach me not to breathe
But to enjoy and be in the presence of breathe.
Teach me the ugliness of trust
And the beauty to believe
And never to question the comfort to trust.
Not to be tied to the sick bed of regret
But to advance into dawn.
To sing where I cannot make songs and melodies
That there are songs and music everywhere
And the refinement to find these and be enlightened
In all nimbus and in all failings.
To see only the grace
And be blind to the glories,
Teach me, Teacher so exalted!
Teach me, Teacher
This willing and all prepared pupil;
The silent art of self-conversations
And the richness and wealth of the mind.
The richness and wealth of the mind
To be one-with-you.
For these richness and wealth
To be the very strong pillars
The earth and her deeds
Rest her shoulders.
To be good
To be pure, to be purified
To be everything there is to all
To be everything of mind profound.
The freedom of the spirit,
The rejoicing of the soul;
The beauty to do good, and to find goodness and to locate you in this goodness, Teacher.