Who art thou to part this babe from her mother’s milk
And this poor child, to whom even the bark feels silk
Who art thou to take pride in shattering the many few
Of whom the world is naught but only a window’s view
Pride; horde; crowd; swarm; school; group; troop
All together, liveth, dieth, stitched in the infinite loop
All hopeth to go meet the supreme and leave this circle
Of endless cycles, of utter chaos, endless, never ending
Of all the senses, I am the real one. Of all Them, I am.
Of all Those, I am. Yous must dare not bewilder them with names
Touch me with faith and yous will be touched by The most Divine
Please me, have me enjoy, and yous in turn shall enjoy
Take me to your heart, where lies thy eternal joy
Krsn, Krsn, Krsn until the name becometh the meaning
And a name becometh a meaning and The Meaning becomest The Name.