The Body is the chariot's frame,
Where Senses pull like steeds untame;
They race through time on paths of strife,
The restless engines of our life.
The Mind acts as the guiding reins,
To curb the horses' wilder strains;
But if the grip is loose or blind,
The soul is left in snares confined.
The Intellect must drive the car,
To steer the course toward a star;
With Buddhi firm and vision clear,
The way is purged of doubt and fear.
The Atman sits as passenger,
The silent, still, and holy seer;
When all obey the driver's hand,
It finds the light of Dharma's land.