Friday, December 1, 2017



There’s no choice, He said.
I’m all you’ve got. 

Forgo the negotiations –
you’ve no collateral.

Forgo the calculations. 
You’re in over your head.

There are no inducements
to any sort of compromise.

It’s the falsity of yourself or the truth of no self;
this apparent, ephemeral insubstantiality

or the resolute putting of it to a stop.
Grab hold of Me, He said, or go around

(around and around) trying to stuff
into your empty pockets fistfuls of diaphaneity. 

O child of God, the dream can’t be grasped.
All you have to hold on to is Meher Baba.  

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