Lost trains

Lost trains                                                                                         

The beekeeper moves the queen;

the other bees circle, swarm, cleave and cling.

Just so, o child, attach your thoughts to the Master

with great and exclusive fervor

         

until all scattered whims, loose ends,

doubts and desires, all lost trains,

projections, slips and lapses, all indulgent               

vagaries and presumptive notions

cluster, coalesce and adhere

to the one true purpose of your existence –

service and allegiance to your Lord –

toiling on His behalf,

striking the spike’s head every moment, 

again and again and again,

deeply driven and authentic.  O child! 

Such a clear-headed, harmonious

and vital industry from you

will offer this vapid world 

an unparalleled sweetness --

untainted, lucent and gloriously rich.

O child of God, in their turbulent stream, which thoughts

are more valuable than thoughts of God?

                          

Singular Majesty

Singular majesty                                                                                   

Only the naked may enter Your Sea. 

These tattered clothes, soiled

from my grandparent’s grave,

a mother’s tears, father’s sweat,

from my rough-housing brothers, lover’s

bodily fluids, the birth blood of my sons –

how shall I drop them at Your shore?

They’ve grown into my skin.

They’ll have to be cut from my body. 

Allow me to suffer these stained rags

hugged close to my chest,

not to hide my nakedness,

but to mark its wondrous beginnings

as I enter the singular majesty

of Your ancient, depthless Sea.

O child of God, imperfect love is Love Divine –

not to be surrendered but transfigured.

                     (from A Jewel in the Dust)

Song link -- I'm not the man

I’m not the man                                              

C                        Gm        F                     C

I guess I learned early on how to stay protected

build a wall around myself let nobody through   

by the gift and debt of love      remain unaffected

thank God for the loneliness               that leads to You

C                        Gm                    F                     C

low desires and deep regrets   in a constant turning

my mistress was the world   she proved to be untrue

through corruption and deceit  I saw Your pure flame burning

thank God for the sinfulness      that leads to You                           

Chorus:

Gm              F            C                                                     Gm

I’m not the man that I used to be (1)  since You gave Your love to me

 (2) since You shed Your grace on me

F                             C                       

I don’t know who I am

Gm              F            C                                            Gm

(1) Finding myself is the mystery   take what You require of me

(2) Finding myself is my destiny

F                     C

show me who I am         

C                       Gm          F                                       C

take what Your require of me          show me who I am   (repeat at the end)

C                        Gm                F                              C

living in Your aftermath          feel like a dead man walking

burned in the fires of love     all I thought was true

through the ashes and the grief   I hear Your true calling

thank God for the hurt and ruin    that leads to You

   I'm not the man         

Crushed

Crushed

O Beloved, You are infinitely and eternally free

and yet, You are bound to us ... and bound by our limitations.

You laid aside the garb of Infinite Power

to walk among us in the flesh.

The harvest of an entire vineyard, crushed and poured

          into one bottle,

and then, that rare wine is handed around among the multitudes.

O Ancient One, You put on yet another lovely coat

          to roam this dusty world!

Patched and threadbare after a time, You discarded it.

Countless ages ago, a naked God put on the garment of Illusion.

One day, Illusion will be cast off, like a threadbare coat.

Then, Your lovers will find their way home,

surrendering in one last, unencumbered embrace.

O child of God, drink from that ageless bottle

and cling to the garment that veils the Essence.

                           (from The Garden of Surrender)

Yeswallas

Yeswallas

To begin to love, o pilgrim, stop caring –

what happens, what doesn’t happen.

Stop caring what people think;

what you have and have not.

Stop caring who you are,

who you are not.

Stop weighing and measuring,

adding up and sorting out.

Without a scrap of guarantee, the mandali

signed their lives away to enter the New Life,

(the one living eternally 

even if there is no one to live it.)

At some future station along the road

will the Elder Brother turn and find 

not another soul upon it?  O pilgrim!

Your name is being read out in Mandali Hall!

Will you sit among the Yeswallas? 

Or, strike out on a different path, cross-country,

unmindful and alone?

O child of God, seek the Beloved’s pleasure.

As for anything else -- stop caring.

                           

The Godman's ear

The Godman’s ear                                                                            

People ask me why You were silent.

I shrug. 

If they persist I quote eloquent answers

You gave over the years.

Not my own theory –   

silent not to miss a single prayer

whispered from any heart’s throat;

the fire of longing not a guttering candle  

nor flickering flame

but a glowing, soundless ember

toward which the Godman’s ear

is ever perfectly cocked and attuned.

I spoke to You for the first time –

my heart’s piercing cry! –

when I learned

no one else would listen.

O child of God, choose your words carefully.

No one’s listening but God. 

 

Window of time

Window of time                                                                                 

O Beloved, You were silent.

Remind us of that

as the intellectuals chase Your words

through the mazes

of God Speaks and Lord Meher,

capturing them like butterflies –

pinned behind glass,

only their bright shells left;

silent as if the man Himself was behind glass

gesturing Truth through that small window of time.

In our dark dreaming, let us not expect words

to awaken us but the Word of His Love,

the Real Word

we have been forever longing to hear.

O child of God, listen with the heart’s ear –

where words and silence both strike to the core.

                       (from A Jewel in the Dust)

Grace intruded

Grace intruded                                                                                

Grace intruded upon my habitual sorrow

and marked me for its own

like a pattern of ink under the skin, 

like an imperfectly minted coin,       

a misprinted postage stamp

or a raw diamond selected for its flaws.

Plucked like a flower

for a vase on a bedside table;

like a wild colt culled from the herd –

lassoed, corralled and broken;

like a shell found on the beach

or an injured bird unable to resume

its migratory route,

I left the broad path

for the narrow and the crooked 

and now – no path at all ...

making my way as everyone must

who tramps toward the gates –

without precedent,

yet, with a Companion who by turns comforts,

inspires, fortifies and illumines the way ahead.

O child of God, Grace is beyond your ken.

To whom much is given much is required.

                             

Beautiful birds

Beautiful birds

O Beloved, You bathed the feet of lepers,

rinsing away centuries of accumulated dirt.

Then, You touched Your holy forehead

to their distended stumps.

Beautiful birds in ugly cages, You called them.

Only You could see their true beauty.

In the years I have been with you, O Beloved,

parts of me have atrophied and fallen away.

Through the eyes of the world, I now seem disfigured;

crippled and useless.

I am a beggar at Your door, desperate to remain

in Your good graces.

I am slowly dying, one appurtenance at a time.

O Beloved, let the beautiful flame of a bird within me

sing fervently among these ruins!

Let me serenade You as the cage that entraps me

cracks and rusts away.

O child of God, rejoice within your ugly cage.

Your Beloved is that beautiful bird that flares and sings

          brightly within you.

                          (from The Garden of Surrender)
                     

Song link -- Say the Word

Say the Word                                                              

C           Cmaj7        Am7         G

O silent One, not a word was spoken

Your silence unbroken all of Your days

but now in the heart      a whisper is heard

the holiest word     the word of Your love

 

the holiest word     the word of Your love

Chorus:

 C          G                      Am         G

          Say the Word     let the doors be opened

 C          G                             Am         G

          Say the Word, my Lord and draw us near

 C          G                          Am           G

          Say the Word      let Your silence be broken

 C           G       C                 Cmaj7             Am7         G

Say the Word  our hearts have ever been longing to hear 

repeat)

                                                                                        

C           Cmaj7           Am7        G

O silent One, with no reason to speak

when the wisdom we seek is found in Your love

where now in the heart      a whisper is heard

the holiest word     the word of Your love

the holiest word     the word of Your love

Say the Word

The darshan moment

The darshan moment                                                                      

Living for tomorrow ...

is a pilgrim in the queue,

absently fingering a garland,

inching his way toward darshan.

Living in the past ... a pilgrim

walking back to the retreat

empty-handed under the stars,

the warmth fading in his chest.

O pilgrim!  Live in the darshan moment!

Behind the doors you’ve burst through, 

in the kneeling and bowing moment,

on the floor of cold stone tears.

He awaits you – expects you – every moment,

a cleft of shoulder and neck

in which to hide your crumbling face

and empty your heart; a pillar to lean on,

a gaze from eyes shining

with an unearthly love.

O child of God, live in the darshan moment.

Before and after are the nuances of a listless dream.

 

                     

The sole heir

The sole heir                                                                                     

Though illegitimate, the courts declared him the sole heir.

His inheritance – a decaying mansion with a vast collection of art.

Times being hard, he immediately tried to sell off

a random painting.  It proved a forgery.

Another proved the same.

And yet another.

The last of his money went into

having the whole collection examined.

  

Worthless, the assessor declared.

The son cursed his fate. 

 

He cursed his father – the old man’s

deception and profligacy, his cruelty and neglect.

An elderly servant brought forth a small painting

kept apart from the others.  It was a depiction of the Christ.

The assessor began to weep.  There is no way,

he said, to assign value to this piece –

it is an icon from the days of the early church.

You have only to name a price and your fortune is made.

The young man’s eyes fell upon the eyes of his Lord.

He blessed his father in the name of Jesus and remained poor,

returning the painting to its place in the old mansion’s chapel.

Upon his death, the icon was bequeathed to the local church.

O child of God, reject the meticulously replicated forgeries.

Cling to the one authentic treasure which has been laid at your feet.


                              (from A Jewel in the Dust)