II. 59. janh cet acet khambh dou BETWEEN THE poles of the conscious and the unconscious, there has the mind made a swing: Thereon hang all beings and all worlds, and that swing never ceases its sway. Millions of beings are there: the sun and the moon in their courses are there: Millions of ages pass, and the swing goes on. All swing! the sky and the earth and the air and the water; and the Lord Himself taking form: And the sight of this has made Kabir a servant.
THOU HAST done well, my lover, thou hast done well to send me thy fin of pain. For my incense never yields its perfume till it burns, and my lamp is blind till it is lighted. When my mind is numb its torpor must be stricken by thy love' lightning; and the very darkness that blots my world burns like a torch when set afire by thy thunder.