O Beloved, You are infinitely and eternally free
and yet, You are bound to us ... and bound by our limitations.
You laid aside the garb of Infinite Power
to walk among us in the flesh.
The harvest of an entire vineyard, crushed and poured
into one bottle,
and then, that rare wine is handed around among the multitudes.
O Ancient One, You put on yet another lovely coat
to roam this dusty world!
Patched and threadbare after a time, You discarded it.
Countless ages ago, a naked God put on the garment of Illusion.
One day, Illusion will be cast off, like a threadbare coat.
Then, Your lovers will find their way home,
surrendering in one last, unencumbered embrace.
O child of God, drink from that ageless bottle
and cling to the garment that veils the Essence.
(from The Garden of Surrender)