Tukaram, Poem 227

We have hurled a stone upon the Sensuous life; we have put death to death. You pervade the world: how can I be separate from you? Now why need I struggle to teach you? How can I expel anything from myself? How can I admit anything to me? We may enter on dry discussions, but you remain beyond them; we are only thrusting imaginary torments on ourselves. You have all kinds of workmen dwelling in your house; you distribute wages according to their labour done. Tuka says, We know nothing of loss or gain; let him who is master preserve the house.