Tukaram, Poem 2998

Our seed of life is like a parched and puffed-up grain; we have no birth or death before us. What room is there for concrete shape in us? Our body is turned manifestly into God. The sugar-cane springs not from dry sugar; how can we pass into the womb again? Tuka says, We have conquered all our appetites; we see Panduranga in all vessels.