O human race, you played the game too heavy;
And threw your dice to always get the bad:
But now I must prepare to love and leave you,
I’ll be, in spite of all, a little sad.
Though most have I.Q. down to zero,
Inhuman mankind, like a fungoid blight;
I will not leave too soon, but stay and help you;
So you can, one day, reach the Primal Light.
I can’t explain why I have ever loved you,
Embracing all of every caste and creed;
And hoping, someday, mankind will do better,
And from delusion, evermore be freed.
Not the end. The Spirit goes on forever.
I was born to this life, and my birth hexagram is The Wanderer
(Fire over the Mountain: Cosmic Lustre and Yoga of Meditation).
A Pagan Magician, but with never any home to call my own:
For such is the life of one who beholds the Cosmos in motion.
I have resided in more countries than I have fingers and toes.
I have had more Gurus than there are Planets in a Horoscope;
But he who knew hunger and the poverty of needy student life,
Lived to have Kings, Consorts, and Nobles kneel and sit at his feet.
It is not an easy life to be worshiped by people as a God,
And only calm indifference prevents them impeding progress.
The Wanderer never asked for money, food, or even shelter,
But he was modest in his needs and they came spontaneously.
It is a Great Wisdom to distinguish between needs and wants,
For in rags or in cambric, sackcloth or silk, naked or a shroud,
The Natural Law provides for those who avoid unnatural ways.
A colorful life in a colorful world, and colorful people,
Yet he who lacked worldly goods won the Great Cosmic Treasure:
Thus in any plane or planet he must be among the Masters
From whom the hidden Occult Sciences have no more secrets.
Om Shanti Om
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