This is a poem by Shakti Parwha Kaur Khalsa, Yogi Bhajan’s first student:

Someday your chair will be empty.
The very blades of grass shall grieve,
And the mountain tops shall shriek in pain at the loss.

This planet, in all its agony and darkness, has had one hope,
One glimmer of light, that you brought in your humble way.

Thousands adore you; many egos abhor you.
Some blinded by your radiance; some blind to it.
Your voice never wavering in speaking the truth,
Confronting the stupidity,
Awakening from ignorance,
Multitudes of souls trapped in the mentality of Kaliyug.
Each day suffering for us, with us, from us,
Receiving the barbed arrows of insensitivity in your being.
Your wounds still dripping, you forgive your assailants,
And stretch out your arms to embrace,
Those whose attacks you endure.

Patiently waiting, watching and praying,
‘Oh Lord, when will Thy children awake?’
Masses are suffering; the earth is begging for mercy,
As the blind mad men dance a war dance,
Around the campfires of ignorance.

Someday your chair will be empty.
Then who can stand alone, as you have stood alone?
Misunderstood, taunted,
But marching on, undaunted.
Serving only God and Guru,
And hated by those who would possess you.
Scorned by those who cannot control you,
Feared by those who do not know you,
Revered by those few blessed souls,
Whose inner being sees and bows.

Your timeless consciousness trapped in a human body,
That grows weak from stress and strain.
Your will, unwilling to stop and give rest,
Knowing the urgency of the mission,
And the merciless timeclock ticking.

And we who have been granted even a brief glimpse of your reality,
Standing helpless and impotent to heal and comfort you,
Must choke back the tears and turn to the Guru.
Is this how it was planned, to keep us from leaning on you?

You have taught us well. No one could have done better.
It is we who are lacking.
Unworthy students, still so slow,
To put into practice all that we know.

But prayer is the power, and prayer is the hope.
For no human agency could manage or cope,
With the endless stream of need and despair,
That you comfort, and counsel, and uplift from your chair.

Fountain of love, your compassion is endless,
And yet in this life, you find yourself friendless.
Who can match your nobility, your sacrifice and your love?
Where is that pure soul,
With the courage to walk in your footsteps,
And see the path as his own?
Why must egos compete with you?
Why can’t we see life is complete in you?

Someday your chair will be empty.
Many will try to claim it.
But who is vast enough to fill the space,
That your mighty being brought to this place?
Who is humble enough to suffer and strive,
Barely keeping a body alive.
Not caring for praise, not caring for slander.
Who is a spiritual giant, equal in splendor?

Someday your chair will be empty.
The very blades of grass shall grieve,
And the mountain tops shall shriek,
In pain at the loss.

Cruelly, even knowing how you suffer,
Still, I pray daily you may live long.
For when your chair is empty,
The hope of dawn shall be gone.

There must be a way,
There must be a solution,
To provide you with rest, comfort and consolation.
So that the children, the future, the souls who are gathering,
Can hear you, and see you, and touch you in this lifetime,
And feel the warmth of your humor, your wisdom and kindness.

Precious Seedlings of Destiny, they need your peerless care.
With a little pruning here and a little pruning there,
They will grow so straight and strong,
That perhaps among them will emerge
That one who can, by right, sit in your chair,
And continue to sing your song.

Sat Nam

In this video, at the end of a class by the Siri Singh Sahib, Yogi Bhajan on March 19, 1986, Shakti Parwha Kaur recites this poem that she wrote: