The rhabdomancer’s art
O seeker, you want the living water
but long crusted over is that fount.
Your tears speckle the nondescript dust
while a stone’s drop beneath you,
silent to your ears,
the living water roils
in the thirst-no-more fountain of Jesus.
It requires the rhabdomancer’s art –
a true divination where and how
to unearth this treasure.
You’ll never find it on your own –
you’re not sharp enough,
your dual, disparate ends
not coming together
into that magically effective,
one-pointed rod of divining and divinity.
O child of God, silently Meher points the way
to the most rewarding place to delve.
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