Wisdom to him was not an afterthought. His wisdom was in the action, in this moment. Here and now. Perhaps it was something that came from years of practice, years of thoughts and afterthoughts. How will i ever know? Perhaps my hope lies in his poetry. Like the eternal naad of the Omkar, the sound of his truth reverberates through his poetry. Light split into colors of the spectrum- that is what each of his poem is.
And the rest will just have to be walked and found.