Unto Himself

Shall no man

Be enticed.

 

Shall no man

Be proselytized.

 

Shall his ears

Not be filled.

 

Shall his hand

Not be forced.

 

The path that he treads,

Should it lead to ruin or reward,

Heaven or hell,

Triumph or turmoil,

Is his own.

 

Every man

Has the right

To discover his life

Or to destroy it.

 

If he suffers,

He may continue to suffer.

 

If he is joyful,

He may continue to be so.

 

Whatever he is,

And is not,

Is a matter for no one

But himself.

 

If he is doomed to destroy himself,

As tragic as this may be,

Some never come to see the error of their ways.

 

Whatever may be the case,

He is not a pin-cushion

To be poked and prodded.

 

Similarly,

He may or may not possess

The slight bit of wisdom

To recognize the noble intent

Of those who attempt to come to his aid.

 

But in the end,

As in the beginning,

He shall do as he sees fit.

 

If he has not the wisdom

To distinguish fire from a sunset,

Or a mirage from water,

Or purity from pestilence,

He will invite the torment and suffering

That accompanies such blindness.

 

But the notion of telling him what to do,

What to read,

What to follow,

What to believe,

How to think,

What to practice . . .

 

The notion of promising

Such and such a reward

For having practiced such and such . . .

 

Is the work of those

Who understand neither the mind of man,

Nor his nature.

 

If he but err,

Shall he err in the direction of turning his back upon the world,

Than in embracing it.

 

Shall he find a home

Within himself.

 

Free of the ravaging rules,

The empty philosophies,

And the childish prescriptions

That, at once,

Diminish and insult

His Humanness.

 

 

Namaste.