Saturday, March 12, 2016

Made of ocean

Made of ocean                                                                                         

Maybe I’m made of ocean,
having always considered myself an island,

the probable cause of so much suffering,
assuming this loose but utile

congregation of aggregates
constitutes a trustworthy place to stand –

solid, apart, enduring; ever looking outward
in the wrong direction.

Maybe I’m made of Infinite Ocean,
no room for this tiny dab of me anywhere;

with lonely suffering the sole root and result
of my imaginary, separate existence.

O child of God, Meher spoke of the Ocean of Love.
Take the plunge and drown.

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