Thou canst not travel on the Path before thou hast become that Path itself.1
Let thy Soul lend its ear to every cry of pain like as the lotus bares its heart to drink the morning sun.
Let not the fierce Sun dry one tear of pain before thyself hast wiped it from the sufferer’s eye.
But let each burning human tear drop on thy heart and there remain; nor ever brush it off, until the pain that caused it is removed.
These tears, O thou of heart most merciful, these are the streams that irrigate the fields of charity immortal. ‘Tis on such soil that grows the midnight blossom of Buddha,2 more difficult to find, more rare to view, than is the
flower of the Vogay tree. It is the seed of freedom from rebirth. It isolates the Arhat both from strife and lust, it leads him through the fields of Being unto the peace and bliss known only in the land of Silence and Non-being.
Kill out desire; but if thou killest it, take heed lest from the dear it should again arise.
Kill out love of life; but if thou slayest Tanha1, let this not be for thirst of life eternal, but to replace the fleeting by the everlasting.
Desire nothing. Chafe not at Karma, nor at Nature’s changeless laws. But struggle only with the personal, the transitory, the evanescent and the perishable
Help Nature and work on with her; and Nature will regard thee as one of her creators and make obeisance.
— The Voice of the Silence