Let me share with you some excerpts of what I enjoyed out of this great work of inspiration "Fruit Gathering": 
 Let me not pray to be sheltered from dangers but to be fearless in facing them. 
 Let me not beg for the stilling of my pain but for the heart to conquer it. 
 Let me not look for allies in life's battlefield but to my own strength. 
 Let me not crave in anxious fear to be saved but hope for the patience to win my freedom. 
 Grant me that I may not be a coward, feeling your mercy in my success alone; but let me find the grasp of your hand in my failure. 
 http://www.sacred-texts.com/hin/tagor... 
 ------------------------------------ 
 I woke and found his letter with the morning. 
 I do not know what it says, for I cannot read. 
 I shall leave the wise man alone with his books, I shall not trouble him, for who knows if he can read what the letter says. 
 Let me hold it to my forehead and press it to my heart. 
 When the night grows still and stars come out one by one I will spread it on my lap and stay silent. 
 The rustling leaves will read it aloud to me, the rushing stream will chant it, and the seven wise stars will sing it to me from the sky. 
 I cannot find what I seek, I cannot understand what I would learn; but this unread letter has lightened my burdens and turned my thoughts into songs. 
 ------------------------------ 
 i And last but not least, I love the following poem passionately as it reminds me of my past in Islam: 
 false religion 
 By Rabindranath Tagore 
 Those who in the name of Faith embrace illusion, 
 kill and are killed. 
 Even the atheist gets God's blessings- 
 Does not boast of his religion; 
 With reverence he lights the lamp of Reason 
 And pays his homage not to scriptures, 
 But to the good in man. 
 The bigot insults his own religion 
 When he slays a man of another faith. 
 Conduct he judges not in the light of Reason; 
 In the temple he raises the blood-stained banner 
 And worships the devil in the name of God. 
 All that is shameful and barbarous through the Ages, 
 Has found a shelter in their temples- 
 Those they turn into prisons; 
 O, I hear the trumpet call of Destruction! 
 Time comes with her great broom 
 Sweeping all refuse away. 
 That which should make man free, 
 They turn into fetters; 
 That which should unite, 
 They turn into sword; 
 That which should bring love 
 From the fountain of the Eternal, 
 They turn into prison 
 And with its waves they flood the world. 
 They try to cross the river 
 In a bark riddled with holes; 
 And yet, in their anguish, whom do they blame? 
 O Lord, breaking false religion, 
 Save the blind! 
 Break! O break 
 The alter that is drowned in blood. 
 Let your thunder strike 
 Into the prison of false religion, 
 And bring to this unhappy land 
 The light of Knowledge. 
 +++ 
 Here is another poem about seeking the Lord for his own sake, choosing the Giver above all gifts he bestows upon us: 
 XXVIII 
 Time after time I came to your gate with raised hands, asking for more and yet more. 
 You gave and gave, now in slow measure, now in sudden excess. 
 I took some, and some things I let drop; some lay heavy on my hands; some I made into playthings and broke them when tired; till the wrecks and the hoard of your gifts grew immense, hiding you, and the ceaseless expectation wore my heart out. 
 Take, oh take--has now become my cry. 
 Shatter all from this beggar's bowl: put out this lamp of the importunate watcher: hold my hands, raise me from the still-gathering heap of your gifts into the bare infinity of your uncrowded presence. 
 http://www.sacred-texts.com/hin/tagor... 
 raise me from the still-gathering heap of your gifts into the bare infinity of your uncrowded presence.