You threw Pilamai’s chair from the moving train
when she refused to occupy it in Your stead.
You revere your
feelings of shame, You said,
more than me. Yes, Beloved, more than You,
I revere the shame of my flesh,
the impertinence of my doubts,
the usurpation of my thoughts and will.
How could it be otherwise?
I have not already surrendered them to You.
For that I am deeply ashamed
and cling to my shame and not to You.
The great gulf between us is filled with small things –
the petty, the furtive, the vain and paltry.
What is my life that I should value it?
What would it have been without You?
Dying to shameful desires, I would be Yours
and with You, inseparable, non-dual
and other facile attempts at description
of that which the tongue, eye and ear
of that which the tongue, eye and ear
are incapable of bearing.
O child of God, the Beloved demands absolute
obedience ... for your
glory, for your emancipation.
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