In the queue snaking to the fire pit aroar,
permanently blackened by sacred ash and soot;
the rhythm of handclaps and the mounting litany
of Baba Hu, the sun descending and a murmured prayer,
everyone clutching their latest, most prominent distractions . . . .
Pilgrim! Don’t leave the dhuni in Meherabad!
Carry it with you everywhere you go,
smoldering, heart-hungry for the sandalwood
of your hewn desires as you turn the mind away
continually from its habitual ego-nurturing
and toss the gathered parings
onto the flames of holy remembrance. O pilgrim!
Every thought not about Him or the task at hand
is an encumbering desire – fuel for the fire.
O child of God, do not abandon the dhuni to its extinction,
eight thousand miles away from your heart.