Your Humble Devotee

Lord, I stand before you in humble supplication:
why am I so disconsolate, my Lord,
when I am in your court, under your blessings?
There is no giver like you; you have carried
countless souls across the ocean of existence.
But this abandoned sinner is still awaiting her turn.

Just as a moonbird pines for the moon,
the pearl shell for the swaanti raindrops
and the peacock for the dark cloud,
I am restless, O Lord, for a glimpse of you.

You are the lamp, I am a moth.
In your flame
I have burnt my mind to ashes.
I have met the perfect adept in you, Radha Soami,
you have transformed this helpless insect, as does a bhringi.
You are the sandalwood tree, I am a snake,
taking shelter in you has soothed my mind.
You are the ocean, I am the wave,
from you I arose, in you I am finally merged.
You are the sun, I am a ray of light,
from you I emerged, to you I have returned.
You are the pearl, I am the string,
never am I really separate from you.
_{Sar Bachan}