Roll out your prayer mat, the old man advised,
in the bazaar among the hubbub and crowd.
If you are enticed by the scents, sights and sounds,
you’ll become hopelessly lost, unless you
carry with you that portable, durable refuge,
to recapture at any moment your composure
among the alluring merchandise,
the hawking vendors, the milling crowd.
And one day, it is foretold, you’ll become lost
within its folds – that old prayer mat rolled up,
tucked under the arm of the Master
Who will then carry you home.
O child of God, Meher said it’s time to stop
playing with the scintillating toys of illusion.
No comments:
Post a Comment