That’s the truest answer ever given. What else can you say? Whatsoever else you say will be foolish; it will not make any sense. You can say trees are green because of chlorophyll, but why is chlorophyll green? The question remains the same. I ask you one question, you give me an answer – but the question is not really answered.
You have lived with a woman for thirty years, and you call her your wife, or with a man, for fifty years. Do you know the man or the woman? A child is born to you: do you know him? Have you looked into his eyes? Can you claim that you know him? What do you know? Do you know a piece of rock? Yes, scientists will give many explanations, but they don’t become knowledge. They will say electrons and protons and neutrons. But what is an electron? And they shrug their shoulders; they say, “We don’t know.” They say, “We don’t know yet,” in the hope that someday they will be able to know. No, they will never be able to know, because first they said, “The rock is made of atoms,” and when it was asked what an atom is, they said, “We don’t know yet.” Then they said, “The atom consists of electrons.” Now we ask what an electron is; they say, “We don’t know yet.” Someday they will say the electron consists of this and that, x, y, z, but that doesn’t make any difference.
The ultimate remains irreducible to knowledge. The ultimate remains a mystery.
If the ultimate is a mystery, then life becomes a life of wonder. If the ultimate is not known, then poetry arises. If the ultimate is known – or you think that it is known – then philosophy arises. That is the difference between philosophy and poetry.
And Kabir’s approach is that of a poet, of a lover, of one who is absolutely wondering what it is all about. Not knowing it, he sings a song. Not knowing it, he becomes prayerful. Not knowing it, he bows down. The poet’s approach is not that of explanation. It is that of exclamation. He says, “Aha! So here is the mystery!”
And wherever you find mystery there is existence. The more you know, the less you will be aware of it; the less you know, the closer existence will be to you. If you don’t know anything, if you can say with absolute confidence, “I don’t know”; if this “I don’t know” comes from the deepest core of your being, then existence will be in your very core, in the very beat of your heart. And then poetry arises. Then, you fall in love with this tremendous mystery that surrounds you.
That love is religion. Religion is not after any explanations. Religion is not a quest for the explanation. Rather, it is an exploration of love, a non-ending journey into love.