If the mountain calls you, you have to go. But where is the mountain?

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    O' Arunachala! I am parched, and dry; naked and soaked to the bone, drowning in Your infinite pouring Grace. Rid me of me, I beg of You Beloved.
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    ‎. . so I am, only within
    looking to See
    Who am I? . . is no other,
    ARUNACHALA!~ _/\___
    
    Within truth, I miss none.
    I have no feeling . .
    no passion for any other than
    
    Arunachala, of which I am totally obsessed, absorbed within
    
    That Grace!I cry tears with you, and for you,
    and As You, dearly You Blessed Beloved . .