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.

A child of Meher

A child of Meher   

I heard of a man named Mercy,

those drawn to Him known as lovers

and ever since that long ago day,

in spite of my distrust, I have inwardly        

longed to be wholeheartedly

one of those sisters and brothers.

But how might a man of so little love,

so little mercy align himself honestly

with the lovers of the Lord of Love;

the Father of Mercy?  I have remained a beggar

outside the gates; listened to their songs of love,

even composed a few myself of praise and complaint,

expressing my allegiance, my hope for love,

my gratitude for the still-open invitation;

marveling at the path I have taken

since I first heard the mercy of His name.

O child of God, however stubborn your fears,

you could never deny – you are a child of Meher.

(drawing by Rich Panico)

The real mystery

The real mystery

You went on a trip around the world and arrived back

having never crossed your front porch.

Viewed your whole journey

through your living room windows;

between the same faded curtains;

behind the same smudged glass.

You arrived back at the beginning, immaculately self-preserved;

while your true adventure remains unexplored.

O child of God, pace the worn-out carpet of your own abode.

That's where the real mystery lies. 

God was born

God was born                                                                                

God was born (as any lover will attest)
at David Sassoon Hospital in Pune, India
 
more than a century ago now.  That is to say,
God entered the mortal realm an embryo in a womb –
 
vulnerable, dependent, miniscule and yet, growing
inexorably toward fruition.  Nothing can hold back God;
 
His precisely scheduled manifestation. 
Even Jesus (of the ascension and the miraculous birth)
 
began a floating fish in a woman’s belly. 
O seeker of God, God is within you,
 
right now -- (it’s how He enters the realm). 
Within you –vulnerable, dependent, miniscule, yes,
 
but growing every moment, inexorably toward fruition.
And, in the course of His love and law,
 
He shall outgrow the flesh that encapsulates Him,
transcend the mind that ensnares and escape
 
forever the narrow, bedimmed, illusory confines
of your self.   O seeker, nothing can hold back
 
the God within you nor prevent His destined,
precisely scheduled manifestation.
 
O child of God, where is your patience?  Everyone –
Meher Baba says –is destined for the supreme goal.