They tell us to You we must pray, To You some fixed words to say, And lengthy litanies to also recite, Claiming this is pleasing in Your sight. But this one fact they never said: True prayer is a dialogue instead, In which You hear, and speak, too, In the same way as we also do, In other words, You talk with us, Together, many things we discuss, On all subjects we can converse, Any topic in the whole universe! You and we being together to chat: True prayer is simply just th

Foolishly, those men declare That You now no longer care To speak with us human folks, Ah! What a really vile hoax, As if Your tongue’s now tied! How those knaves have lied! This is just so plain to see, For, You, I know, speak to me, And many others, I’m sure, too, Showing thus that You still do Speak with us just as before, What proof is needed more?

In surrender to You one can be in peace, Only so from fear can one gain release.

We think we ourselves do, But all is done just by You.

Every event in the Universe Is, to put it in manner terse, Planned, designed and done By the All-Pervading One.

What's in History read or heard, All by Him was engineered, ‘Creation’s Story’ what we may call, It’s He Himself who did it all.

All their allotted portion receive, As per a rule we don’t perceive, Do the best with what’s to you assigned, Whatever in your share you get to find.

Another day now draws to a close, There’ll be a tomorrow, I suppose, Perhaps another will then arrive, And maybe I’ll still be on Earth alive To see another day’s dimming light And the onset of a soft, quiet night, But who knows how long this will repeat? It must end one day, when death I’ll meet.

You handle all of our cares, You take care of our affairs, What, at all, do we have to do? Nothing, for all is done by You. At best, our part is just this one: Witnessing You getting things done.

Ah, sweet friend Death I see, Rushing in a hurry towards me, Ever since I came to Earth here He’s been racing increasingly near, Outstretched hands held up high, A smile on his lips from afar I spy, How eagerly, like a long-lost friend, I see him speeding round the bend, Delighted, it seems, at the thought Of soon gaining what he’s long sought: To hold me, at last, in a tight embrace, And telling me what I must now face.

Joyfully I can greet each new day If I know You’re with me all the way, If this fact You make me understand: All through You’re holding my hand.

To life they don’t cling, for death they don’t pine, For them, either state of being is just equally fine.

Often, we respond to others’ behaviour towards us (whether ‘good’ and ‘bad’, as we might perceive it) by behaving in just the same way (with them and even with others). In doing so, we become like them. Because of this, we can become like the person whose behaviour we appreciate. But it can also happen that because of this, we become like the person whose behaviour we don’t appreciate, and so, our behaviour may begin to mirror theirs. From this we can learn to be mindful of t

There’s a Master Plan in place For each being on Earth’s face, So that what here they go through, And all the deeds they seem to do By God’s Will these all get done, And in this, choice they have none, For God the Sole Willer and Doer is, So that all happenings here are His.

The freewill we think we possess: What if it’s sheer delusion, no less, And we aren’t free to act at all (Though deeds’ doers ourselves we call), And that all deeds that here occur Are done by Him to whom as ‘God’ we refer, Sole Doer, acting through our body-mind To perform all deeds, of every kind, As He wills, just as He pleases, And from this He never ceases, So that in His Universe that’s so vast, Now, today, just as in the past, It’s His Will alone that does prevail, And

One day, please wipe our tears, And put to rest all our fears, Born from being here on Earth, Where You made us take birth, For Your purpose to pursue, You’ll do all that, won’t You? Then, hide us deep in Your heart, From where we must never depart.

The sole purpose we are here On Earth, for a short time mere Is to serve as an instrument Of the Divine to implement Its Will through the body-mind Which to be ‘us’ we’ve opined (Although no such ‘us’ exists, Being a myth that still persists), For the purpose of God’s game, With all beings here it’s the same.

Are all deeds we seem to do Actually done by none but You Through what we’ve defined As our very own body-mind, These being forms that You take For Your strange game’s sake, In which all deeds You enact, You being the Sole Doer in fact, Other than you there being none In the world who gets deeds done?

We can craft for us our own personal ‘Scripture’ With our every thought, word, deed and gesture.

Come, see how finely he regales His flock with those foolish tales That hail from times so very old, Which for aeons have been retold, What as ‘God’s Own Word’ they call (Mere lies for which vast millions fall), These myths absurd, all most bizarre, From both logic and ethics very far. In silence I watch while he continues Loudly haranguing the packed pews. From him I turn, then to myself I ask, “How can this man take on the task Of reciting those tales, day in and out, Dem