Above the world, an empty tomb
where I stretch out on the soft stone,
deathly afraid at first, alone,
hurrying soon back down
to the lively accustomed city.
But later returning irresistibly
to that interior space where thoughts
dissipate, eyes discern; hearing grows acute.
Understanding everything better now
from the hollow of my tomb.
The world become fearsome below,
raucous and ensnaring,
to the crypt’s refuge I often repair,
listening for God’s approach.
He’s arranged our meeting there
when He comes to take me home.
O child of God, inhabit your tomb, like Meher,
long before you take your final rest.