The Teacher Without Name

He went looking for a teacher, across the sea, across the land.

He bowed to many masters, calling with offerings from his hand.

"Teach me how to be free," and the yogi said, "I can show you the door, But you must have the key."

"Teach me how to know," and the scholar said, "I can give you words,

But not the light that makes them glow."

"Teach me," he said to the saint, "Teach me how to love."

The saint just laughed, "Love all by your heart as God does from above."

The day arrived, when something spoke from within.

Not in words, it just was there, herein. No claims, no promise, no solution, Just dreams that had its conclusion.

Senses of serenities in revelation, Unity with wisdom, love's declaration.

The Teacher Within does not teach In the way the world expects. It does not add information, Removing all deformation.

For consciousness is not a thing you learn, a prize, or what you earn.

It is the ocean, where thoughts are the wave, it is the boat towards the save.

Consciousness works by love alone, Not just as feeling, it needs to be the throne.

Love is not romance, or just sweet, Love is the gravity that makes the universe meet.

It sees you, for it is the space that lets everything be true.

Love is the conscious language, for all existence to manage.

Awareness without love is just a cold eye, love without awareness is how we die.

The Teacher Within does only this, it teaches you to love what is,

Without pause, without clause, without because.

The teacher and student in union disappear, only Love remains for the Seer.