When I went along the streets singing songs people called me a fool, an awara(nomad) and a madcap.
When I was silent they called me a dumbman, a lazy beggar and a hypocrite
When I sang songs and enjoyed the freedom that God gave me, people in fetters stared at me and branded me an outcast
When I sought enjoyment in the eloquence of silence and am talking with no one leaving same silence the world again branded me an outcast
When in song I found my God; when with song I worshipped my God and went along happily with my God, the words of men, unaware of me fell into my ears and I lost my God and their God for they won’t allow me into their temples
When in silence I wooed my God in the temple of my heart with flowers made of myself with sweet scented water and incense all from myself the roar and thunder of the cries of the mad people calling me mad frightened my loving God and he disappeared. I turned unto the crowd to search whether my God lost his way in the crowds but they would not allow me to search for my God.
Desolate I left away both the song and the silence and went about always mumbling to myself – “ My God! My Mother! My love, My Mother, My breath! My song! …”
Now that I am a madman, the crowd is content and since they can’t hear the song nor the silence thought that my sanity has returned.
But without song nor silence how can my God hear me? Without the two legs how can one walk? Will ever the trembling lips be seen by my Mother and their secret understood??
