Edmonton/Toronto
The Monk
Do bless the order
Of the saffron man
Who owns no home
No burrow or tree
Who speaks of life
It’s unending circle
And the option
To move beyond
He is poor by choice
All that’s his is
A staff, a pot
And a piece of cloth
There is no mistress
No fancy food
No soft comfort
And no perfumes
The thirst for name
In hunger for fame
Must all be behind
They have no place
He welcomes the wind
Heat, cold and rain
Indifferent he is
To the season’s spin
Declare him meek
When he’s on his feet
Touching the hearts
From soul to soul
He is not alone
There are always two
Do bless this order
For the sake of all
- Composed by Bhaktimarga Swami, The Walking Monk ©
May the Source be with you!
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