Terrors of Mundane Delusions are but Dreams
Wrapped
in the blanket of earthly hopes, I slept long. I dreamt that I was sitting on a throne; my face wore
a bouquet of smiles. It soon withered; one by one the petals of merriment dropped.
Then I beheld myself in rags, lying on the
jagged stones of poverty. In the unrelenting grip of adverisites I sobbed bitterly. My tears fell unheeded; the world
passed me by in mocking silence.
My heart wailed for
Thy help. Moved by the spiritual force of my unceasing pleas, Thou didst waken me at last. In joy I found myself secure in
Thee, beyond the reach of bewildering dualities.
Mayest
Thou waken all other men from the world dream of smiling opulence and crying poverty. Deliver them, O Maker of Dreams!
from ugly nightmares of death. Revive in them the consciousness of immortality. Bless them,
that by unbroken calmness they realize the terrors of mundane delusions are but dreams.
