Until you wake up to what you really are
You'll be like the man who searches the whole jungle
for a jewel that hangs at his throat.
Oil, wick, and fire: until they mingle in a cruse
they scarcely produce light,
So how can you expect to dissipate the darkness
simply by talking of lamps?
You're the sort of fool who sees your face
in a mirror, befouled by inky filth,
And proceeds to try to erase the blackness
by cleaning the reflection to a shine.
Surdas says, it's only now the mind can see--
now that so countless many days are lost and gone--
For who has ever recognized the brilliance of the sun
but by seeing it through eyes gone blind?
Surdas (NPS 368)