How can Your Creative Potency be described? I cannot even once be a sacrifice to You. Whatever pleases You is the only good done, You, Eternal and Formless One. Countless fools, blinded by ignorance; thieves and embezzlers; impose their will by force; cut-throats and ruthless killers; sinners keep on sinning; liars, wandering lost in their lies; wretches, eating filth as their ration; slanderers, carrying the weight of their stupid mistakes on their heads; names, places; inaccessible, unapproachable, celestial realms. Even to call them countless is to carry the weight on your head. Describing the state of the lowly: From the Word, comes Praise, spiritual wisdom, singing Songs of Glory, the written and spoken words and hymns; destiny, written on one's forehead. But the One who wrote these Words of Destiny-no words are written on His Forehead. As He ordains, so do we receive. The created universe is the manifestation of Your Name. Without Your Name, there is no place at all. When the hands and the feet and the body are dirty, water can wash away the dirt. When the clothes are soiled and stained by urine, soap can wash them clean. But when the intellect is stained and polluted by sin, it can only be cleansed by the Love of the Name. Virtue and vice do not come by mere words; actions repeated, over and over again, are engraved on the soul. You shall harvest what you plant. By God's Command we come and go. Pilgrimages, austere discipline, compassion and charity - these, by themselves, bring only an iota of merit. Listening and believing with love and humility in your mind, cleanse yourself deep within. All virtues are Yours, Lord, I have none at all. Without virtue, there is no devotional worship. I bow to the Lord of the World, to His Word, to Brahma the Creator. He is Beautiful, True and Eternally Joyful. What was that time, and what was that moment? What was that day, and what was that date? What was that season, and what was that month, when the Universe was created? The Pandits, the religious scholars, cannot find that time, even if it is written in the Puraanas. That time is not known to the Qazis, who study the Koran. The day and the date are not known to the Yogis, nor is the month or the season. The Creator who created this creation-only He Himself knows. How can we speak of Him? How can we praise Him? How can we describe Him? How can we know Him?