There’s a shelter, rain on the roof,
wind in the trees the only sounds.
And your own breath.
Let the storm outside rage.
Hard to find and keep, this shelter -
a hidden niche in a valley
deep with loneliness, habit and fear;
false assurances, reckless promises;
the urge for artificial light.
In here the new life begins,
a different journey - the outward,
the known discarded - trusting someOne,
someThing other than yourself,
shrugging off the weight of the world
and reaching out a hand
to be led wherever truth may take you.
A small room where you trust
because you no longer care
and give yourself over to the steadfast shelter
of the only permanence you have ever met.
O child of God, Meher Baba said,
take your stand on the truth within.