Arivu: Knowledge
This which is known here, is none otherOn reflection, knowledge it becomes;
As knowledge is one with this ever,
Naught else there is but knowledge alone.
Without knowledge this could not be,
Even granting the known to have reality;
Should but this one knowledge be wanting
What knowing could there be for knowledge;
none such we can know.
Beyond the measure of knowledge,
whatever we can know
As knowledge even that too shines;
As within consciousness here, dream abides,
So comprised in knowledge is all that is there.
If knowledge be all-filling,
Non-knowledge, where could it abide?
Going after knowledge from here,
As knowing that there; where could it reside?
If from knowledge no fading out could be
And knowledge alone is, to where could
all this descend?
Knowledge is not known here,
When known both become one and the same.
Prior to knowledge "What?" if we should ask,
Other than knowledge nothing here is found;
The unknowing, what limitation could it have?
And as for knowledge, there is nothing here to see.
Of knowledge we are aware; of its absence
We have no awareness here; which in which abides?
Though known here, not as knowledge
do we un-know
When we ourselves should here regard.
Even from the day that knowledge ever was,
this too has been;
(But) how could this stand if knowledge
alone were real?
Of knowledge no disjunct category there is;
(And) whatever could there be if but knowledge
were not?
There is a habitation for knowledge
None distinct there is for the known;
If there is knowledge as an item distinct
How could the known enter there into?
On that day, unaware of aught
Consumed by the known, all will be gone.
What in knowledge' is it that is not known?
And as for knowledge, how could it arise at all?
As the knower of knowledge, what makes known here
That do we become; if this is conceded
What kind is knowledge, and how come
The known; and what kind could it be?
Yourself is what is known as knowledge;
By putting down your own knowledge,
it becomes the known.
The known is thus twofold: one conscious
of knowing,
And the other not conscious of the same.
Knowledge, too, likewise in its turn proceeding
Became reflected in the knower once again,
And one spark of knowledge falling
into this the known,
Into five shreds it became split up.
If one could still be cognizant of oneself
As the knower of knowledge, still knowing
knowledge to be all,
The one that is knowledge and the one
that is the knower,
And six within that which is known, eight thus
they become.
Corresponding likewise with this known
Knowledge, too, seven and one, makes eight;
Knowledge is thus superficially distinguished
As also the known, when separated one from one.