RAMANA'S GRACE 3

Whether it be a pot or heavy lump of clay,
Or the microcosmic atom in my breath,
Whether it be smoke, fire or mountain way,
Will any serve as a cure for painful death?
I‘m only blocking love by logic chopping,
I must bow to praise great Bhagavan's feet,
But monkey mind keeps dropping off and hopping,
Instead of abiding in His bliss replete.
The heavy weight of reason and causation,
Will never take me to Self Realisation,
Instead they lead to endless frustration,
A kind of morbid mental masturbation.
I must take refuge in Ramana's grace,
Inside my heart; True Saviour of the race!