Chapter 7: Raw, Cooked, Burnt
His silence is full of songs, very pregnant. His silence is like a seed, and when he uses words, those words are like flowers that come out of the seed. His silence is beautiful, his songs are beautiful, because those songs come from silence and those songs carry some fragrance of the silence.
When words speak in such a way that they carry silence, then you have come to know how to use words. Then you are no longer dumb.
The dumb find tongues,
when the scent of life reaches them
from his soul.
But it all comes from him, from the beyond.
Buddha, Bahauddin, Kabir, Christ, Mohammed, Mahavira, Sosan and Sanai - they don’t speak on their own. They are hollow bamboos, flutes. They sing a song that comes through them but is not of their own. The signature on their songs is that of existence.
Enough for today.