Cigar box treasures
Of his son, the father is kindly indulgent,
showing off his cigar box treasures.
One day he will put away childish things.
You live in the apparent, o child;
pray in the apparent.
You hope to catch God's ear
garnered from the teachings -
proud of your knowledge, your disciplines,
your rock-ribbed faith. O petitioner!
You have to be broken to pray -
drop to your knees as if from a blow;
broken, not like a horse - but, irrevocably,
like an egg crushed underfoot.
You have to bring to your father
your most humble possessions -
ignorance, trepidation, disbelief;
helplessness and bewilderment.
You have to bring Him the truth
sans adornment or elaboration.
O child of God, when will you view yourself
through the eyes of your father?