And if the knower himself remains unknown, what is the point of all your knowledge? In your own house there is darkness – so what is the point of all the light that you see all around? You live in darkness, you are darkness. And there is no way to know the knower. Who will know it? – because knowledge means you will have to divide again.
Poetry means unite, knowledge means divide. Poetry means make bridges, and knowledge means break bridges.
If the modern man looks so sad, empty, the reason is that philosophy has succeeded – the reason is that philosophy has released much knowledge. And the universities go on stuffing your heads with knowledge.
Remember with Kabir…Kabir is a poet, not a philosopher – mystic. He understands, but he does not know. In understanding, you feel; it is from the heart. You have the taste of life, it is on your tongue, but you cannot say it. No word is adequate to say it, no language potent enough to say it. All expressions look so pale compared to the understanding that arises in a mystic that he can say it only through silence, or at the most through poetry.
Poetry is very close to silence, because it says and yet says it not. That is the definition of poetry: it says and it says it not. It uses words in such a way that the silence is not disturbed. It uses sounds, but in such a skillful way that the silence is enhanced, not destroyed.
Joseph Campbell has said: “Those who desire and strive for salvation most earnestly are in their zeal bound the more, since it is exactly their self-seeking that is giving them their pain…. When the Buddha extinguished ego in himself, the world burst into flower. But that, exactly, is the way it has always appeared to those in whom wonder, and not salvation, is religion!”
Let wonder be your religion, not salvation; salvation is again a philosophic concept. Let wonder be your dimension. Attain to wondering eyes again – you had them once when you were a child. All children are born full of wonder, but we destroy their wonder. We stuff their minds with knowledge – knowledge which is futile, knowledge which only destroys life. Knowledge which maybe is useful, utilitarian, but in the ultimate sense is just “ho hum.” You go on stuffing the minds of innocent children and sooner or later you succeed. They are helpless, and your success is their failure. Once they start feeling that they know, they have lost track.
That track has to be found again. Yes, it is lost, but it can be regained because deep down somewhere you are still wondering; the knowledge remains only on the surface. Just dive within yourself and you will touch that core of wonder which is still there. You are still a child. And sometimes that child comes up. In moments of love, in moments of joy, sometimes listening to music or seeing a sunset, that child surfaces – and again you are running after butterflies and again you are collecting seashells on the beach, and again your eyes have a sparkle and again your heart is beating in a new rhythm. It happens to everybody once in a while.