He sought the truth in prayer,
In holy chants, in silence there,
But wisdom’s voice eluded still,
A deeper call, a higher will.

He walked with saints, their words like gold,
Yet none could make his spirit whole.
No teacher’s path, no master’s way,
Could light the truth he craved each day.

In pleasure’s arms, he sought to see,
The fleeting joys of ecstasy,
But wealth and wine could not fulfill
The endless thirst he carried still.

At the river’s edge, he came to know,
Life’s rhythm in its constant flow.
The world, a dance of joy and pain,
Of loss, of birth, and all the same.

In every drop, in every breath,
He learned that life defies all death.
The river taught what none could say:
That wisdom blooms when we give way.

No truth can live in words alone,
It lives in hearts, in paths unknown.
To seek, to fall, to rise once more;
This was the lesson at the core.

— Sincerely, Boris