Tuesday, December 5, 2017

One grave truth

One grave truth         

We get easily spooked viewing the cold,
shoveled up clods and clumps

of that unadorned hole in the clay.
We rush away down worldly-rutted paths

that lead back only to the stone
with our name on it, flirting uneasily

along the way with the great Rulemaker
and the heaven-or-hell Hereafter –

more a credulous element of denial
than a whole-hearted embrace

of that one grave truth. Most acquire their religion,
or the rejection of it, from fifth-hand,

word-of-mouth pulpits and scripture.
Only a few receive the real Word –

most have no ears for it –
and respond by leaping into the open grave,

to begin their digging there
for the faintly rumored water of life,

a thousand leagues deep in the dust
of innumerable lifetimes yet to come.

O child of God, the eternal wellspring, says Meher,
lies in the graveyard dust at the Master’s feet.



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