Unidentified is a place he has chosen
Distant beyond, where simply devoted reach
Unworkable will he be to for you to uncover
Yet call him, he is right there by your threshold.
Solitary the best position he finds
Simplicity is his attitude defined
Intelligence, you barely dare to bet
Love and compassion, his embedded duty.
Ordinary will he seem to you
While I know what he is to me.
You necessitate a phone to communicate
He just needs hearts to connect
You hunt for a structure to live
He finds a cave to retreat
You command luscious to eat
He survives on grains he obtain
You party with echoing blare
He celebrates with the offerings he compose
Ordinary will he seem to you
While I know what he is to me.
Death is what he tirelessly reminds himself with
Worldly pleasure, the distraction he mull over
Prayers his therapy
For one and for all beings to heal
Hours, minutes and seconds he reckon
To help, help the ailing beings.
With your modern jargon,
What would you title him with?
A gentleman? The noblest ? or an ancient?
Ordinary will he seem to you
While I know what he is to me
He is my Guru.
Photo from Paro Valley, Bhutan by Mint Images – Art Wolfe.