You might honor God routinely,
garbed ornately in obeisance
and prayer upon the crowd's
pedestal wielding a gold crozier
or ramble the streets a social warrior
serving the least among us,
wreaking differences great and small.
Or you might be required
to become inconsequential,
disappear, in fact, or failing that,
a mere dust mote floating
upon the light, slanted air.
You might find it your sacred duty
to fold yourself away in a drawer
somewhere or stay mutely perched
upon some high shelf way in the back,
becoming in only apparent ways
yourself one of the least, the very least.
The laudable Joshu insisted it is better
to go without even one laudable thing.
O child of God, Meher said nothing matters
(in this wicked old world) but love for God.
|(painting by Joe DiSabatino)|