That clear still center

That clear still center                                                                                

If I had my way, I’d never come back

to another lifetime of sin and ignorance,

causing pain and harm to myself and others.

But that’s no virtue –

not wanting to cause suffering.  

It’s just another desire – the root of suffering,

the barrier to surrender and non-return. 

In the realm of illusion

where might pure virtue be found?

Purity has nothing to do with perfection.

It has to do, apparently, with getting off the wheel

onto that clear still center even as

the rest of the world shakes and gyres,

rattles and quakes, wavers around you.

If I had my way, I’d never come back

but then – it’s never been about me having my way.

O child of God, round and round and round you go,

too drunk to find your way off the dance floor.

Become the sought

Become the sought                                                                                               

Fool that I am, I have searched for You all these years –

the One Who is everywhere and in everything.

I’m not sure of what I’m seeking

but You’ve given it a name:  Meher Baba.  

I suppose I’m nearer the goal after all this time.

I’ve no way to gauge the distance.

You didn’t come to teach

and I’ve learned nothing of consequence.

Either I am You or Your creature

or somehow both and I’ll end up with You

some lifetime or another – or not.

You might never be mine

but just the same I belong to You.

I may be a fool but I’m Your fool,

hoping to die

with Your name on my lips.

O child of God, Meher said stop seeking

and become the sought.

Bottleneck

Bottleneck                                                                                                 

There’s a bottleneck ahead,
multiple lanes merging into one,
 
other vehicles escaping via numerous exits,
shooting off somewhere toward greener pastures
 
so that I end up alone on a narrow one-lane
strip of asphalt, overgrown and broken,
 
twisting through hill country and deep woods,
no road signs or mileposts.  I know not
 
what’s ahead or if I am on the right road
but it no longer matters. 
 
It’s my route, my journey,
my destination and now I know
 
I do not travel it by chance
and I do not travel it alone.
 
O child, if God is with you,
the journey and goal are secondary.

Castle in the air

Castle in the air                                                                                        

I’ve built a castle in the air, 

rooted precariously in the clouds.

I move through it daily inspecting

inconsistencies, shifts in solidarity

and alignment – yet also marveling each step

at its impracticable beauty and intricate improbability.

It began with a frail hope, then a desperate faith.

Now a feckless audacity keeps me

roaming its uncharted wings,

knowing what an absurd indulgence

my efforts are considered

by almost everyone stuck in the mire below.

Riding the clouds, built upon the wind,

having perhaps not a whit of substance

but, o I have found nothing

on terra firma to outweigh its promise,

its solace and my holy obsession

with its lofty, ethereal beauty.

O child of God, to reside within the mystery,

rise above everything on earth taken to be true.