Come, My Friend, Let us Now Take Our Leave
Can Harvard yield a commission from God?
Or Can Yale produce a single saint?
Of what use are lectures from lettered men?
Don’t fall for the temptation to let them
Tickle your ears; You’ve heard it all before
And always walked away empty-handed.
Out here, divinity degrees are good
Only for the warmth from the fires they start;
Churches and temples useful only for
Shelter from the elements they provide.
They’re best when they are ruins, overgrown
With weeds and creeping vines, resounding with
the happy songs of crickets and of birds.
Let none call you teacher. Be you rather
An eternal student. Aspire not
To be called Master. If you would be great
Aspire to be the servant of all.
Throw, therefore, all your priestly robes away,
And cast all man-made religions aside.
If you would find the Source of Holiness
Stop seeking without – go deeply within.
Why take a pilgrimage to distant lands?
If God’s not as much in your own backyard
As any holy place on earth, there'd be
No hope for land-loafers like you and I.
Come now, let us depart from the talkers
Whose long-winded talks only ailed our ears;
And take our leave of the seeking pilgrims
Whose sole rewards are thirst and blistered feet –
And let us fast from worldliness a while.
I brought some special wine to share with you,
That ferments not, and offers the soul bliss.
The silence, on a trusted source’s word
Abounds with precious gems and priceless jewels
If only somehow we could lose our head,
We may possess them and not want for aught
Again. But Alas! This chatter box plagues
Us day in and day out, without surcease.
Why do we, friend, let it pester us so,
But for the simple reason that we have
Not yet learned how to make the darn thing stop?
So many days in this life have now passed
Us by, and little progress has been made.
Come now, my fickle mind, stop playing dumb.
You and I can move mountains by our faith
Without our even lifting a finger.
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