I was searching for God for thousands of lives. I saw him, sometimes far away. I rushed, by the time I would reach there he had gone further. It went on and on. But finally I arrived at the door, and on the door was a sign, “This is the house where God lives.”
I became worried for the first time. I became very troubled. Trembling, I went up the stairs. I was just about to knock on the door, and suddenly in a flash, I saw.
If I knock on the door and God opens the door, then what? Then everything is finished — my journeys, my pilgrimages, my great adventures, my philosophy, my poetry, all the longing of my heart — all is finished! It will be suicide!
Seeing the point, I removed my shoes from my feet because going back down the stairs might create some noise. And from the moment I reached the bottom of the steps I ran. I have not looked back. Since then I have been running for thousands of years.
I am still searching for God, although now I know where he lives. So all I have to do is avoid that place, and I can go on searching for him everywhere else. But I have to avoid that house. That house haunts me. I remember it perfectly. If by chance I accidentally enter that house, then all is finished.