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The True Teacher teaches one nothing:

he is Knowledge itself

and his person is a continuous song of Knowledge:

to be in his presence is to be bathed in the waters of life.


He is That which all systems of knowledge try to define,

with whom all thought seeks union.

He is the glory and finality of the processes of creation,

and beyond them—and the infant God in one's heart.


To him there is no distinction of teacher and pupil:

he is Truth and the path to it:

for our sake he again treads that path

and invites us to accompany him to our own Self.


He does not give one lectures and sermons on Truth;

tell one, "This you shall do or not do:"

his discourses and parables are his delightful conversation

from friend to friend walking in a dew-filled morning lit with the sun.


He does not order one to sit apart from one's fellows

amidst the clamor of one's own mind,

but invites one to sit with him when his Silence hushes the day

and paints the sky with the glory of evening.


His eyes are the stars that watch over you through the night.

His love is the sun which awakens you in the morning.

The blessing of his hand wipes out ignorance in a moment

and the footprints of his feet are the Way to eternal life.

—Francis Brabazon





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