The Moon, like the thoughts of our ordinary mind, does not have its own light, it just reflects that of the sun. Where is the sun, then, inside of us?
Here we have an inspiring and beautiful poem by Kabir (1440-1518), a Sage, poet and musician from India, who taught in a very Socratic way, considering all human beings equally, beyond any differences of religion, sex, caste or race. This is one of the translations made by Rabindranath Tagore:
The moon shines in my body, but my blind eyes cannot see it:
The moon is within me, and so is the sun.
The unstruck drum of Eternity is sounded within me; but my deaf ears cannot hear it.
So long as man clamours for the “I” and the “Mine”, his works are as naught:
When all love of the “I” and the “Mine” is dead, then the work of the Lord is done.
For work has no other aim than the getting of knowledge:
When that comes, then work is put away.
The flower blooms for the fruit: when the fruit comes, the flower withers.
The musk is in the deer, but it seeks it not within itself: it wanders in quest of grass.
