His crucifixion portends our own; His perfection,
the beams to which we are nailed –
the intuitive judgment we are unable
to wash our hands of, the cup of gall
brimful perfect in the holy grail.
For ages we have pretended we are not living
at cross-purposes, justifying our denials
and in the half-light knowing Him not.
We glide along horizontal for a spell
upon this great convexity
until a crisis uprights us and we are scorned,
racked, nailed, pierced and tortured
by the obvious, unobfuscated truth
of Jesus, human perfection, purity and love.
O child of God, your Lord said: I was this one,
I was that one and now I am Meher Baba.