O Beloved, I was just a child
when You stole my heart from its crib.
That Thief went by an alias – Jesus of Nazareth.
“Never a man spake thusly ... “
and I fell in love with Your poetry
and the drama of the first stone cast;
the water and the wine, the cross and the promised crown ...
but, people in authority told lies and I believed them.
Their shouting drowned out Your interior voice.
I was lost for years, but You kept an eye on me.
The Buddha offered quietude and contemplation,
brown rice and tea,
but no one in the zendo ever mentioned Love.
That’s what all the fuss is about in Your silent ministry –
a Jesus-kind-of-Love and a Rendezvous.
The Great Redeemer, mustachioed and wearing a pink coat,
arrives in a ’54 DeSoto.
O Beloved, I’ve become a child again waving from the curb.
O child of God, Jesus opened the door; the eightfold path
merged into Meher’s fiery Ocean of Love.
(from The Garden of Surrender)