Your illusory grudges

Your illusory grudges                                                                            

The escaped prisoner took a hostage;

demanded a pardon for her ransom. 

Despite blood-stained hands,

he remained sure of his innocence. 

But he fell in love with his captive,

placed the pistol in her hand,

knelt before her and surrendered.

Whatever you think is just, he whispered.

Those stolen hours in her presence enough, 

enough, the justification of his imprisonment;

his surrender suddenly worth more than liberation,

vindication, absolution, the future triumph.

O child of God, renounce your illusory grudges

and receive the immediate wonderment of God.

Promise and compromise

Promise and compromise                                                                      

I made You a promise I could not keep,

left intact but compromised

like an outed spy behind the lines.

A promise made naively, doomed to failure,

made of love and ardor, I could not keep,

my separate existence being the inherent contradiction,

the broken promise, itself a compromise

to the integrity of the One True Whole.

O child of God, the human being is a compromise

between the immortal and the nonexistent.

The drop of a hat

The drop of a hat

Gives us something to occupy
our hands, Your damaan

rather then the usual coattails
into which we sink our fingers

yanked hither and yon,
their common thread being

the desire to be different than we are,
the relative freedom of a self-created world

preferred to the larger dimensions
that surround and determine

our every move and position.
Holding on to Your damaan

to train us in persistence,
offering the rugged, reciprocal texture of fidelity.

O child of God, you cling to self
and let go His coat at the drop of a hat.

Dio Chrysostum

Dio Chrysostum                                                                                       

Tired of manipulating the figures so it all adds up

for myself and like-minded seekers to satisfy

our craving for the orderly and coherent.

A comprehended God, rightly pointed out

Dio Chrysostum, is no God, just as numerals

might or might not suggest real quantities. 

One apple or a dozen, genuine or imagined,

there’s nothing much on paper

in which to sink our teeth; juggling empty conceits  

and fear for our sanity should all those apples rain down

though at some point that must be

exactly what we need.

O child of God, if it makes sense

it must surely not be true.

The unraveling of an elephant

The unraveling of an elephant                                                                

The unraveling of an elephant

by Eruch at Baba’s instruction.

Did the lesson end before the embroidery

was completely ruined

or did He let everyone see

the practical price that must be paid –

what is left when the self comes apart;

illusion exposed, truth unveiled?

Ruin and destruction are crucial, 

inherent in those interwoven threads

which make up the trembling figures

on our shimmery, flimsy veils.

O child of God, you fear the Nothingness

which (says Meher) contains the Everything.

Rudimentary

Rudimentary

Your advent footfalls, so quick and tender,
Your sandal prints, rudimentary, Lord,

Your instructions in the dust
of such a wee, tumbling planet

in the green blackness
and brilliance of Infinity,

one brief spark in the Eternal,
coming down to meet us (You warned)

what could You ever have said
that would reach our ears

on so tiny a stretch of our journey,
where the stepping stars

must be leapt before inheritance
might be crowned and wielded?

Flesh and earthbound now,
blind, inarticulate,

beyond yet the nuances
of our most noble sensibilities,

when we are not outright oblivious,
we stand abashed and ashamed,

mute at best, before the subtle, cursive,
most holy fluency of our Creator.

O child of God, so rudimentary the Word of Meher!
So condensed in Its fateful power and efficacy!

The matter of Love

The matter of Love                                                                                  

You replaced First Cause with Original Whim,

karma’s tripwire rendered moot

where only Love matters (saith the Lord)!

Birds made of sky, fish of ocean, songs of silence,

trees of clay like Adam the walking tree

or the walking Fish, the tree-bearing Jesus

stumbling up Calvary Who became

the Silent Master on the Hill,

revivifying every bird feather, tree leaf, song note,

fish scales luminous, iridescent, transparent

with the One and only sacred, vibrant

and ubiquitous matter of Love.

O child of God, your words are birds escaping

through an broken-barred window in the holiness.

A temporary belonging

A temporary belonging

Every moment borrowed
at the wield of the giver,

a temporary belonging
with attached strings,

neither for the due nor the unworthy
but a neutral arrangement

from an unimpeachable source,
authorized and initiated

by the Unfathomable and so,
figure it from there, as regards

to purpose, meaning, worth and goal.
Nothing belongs but especially our lives

to any of us (who exist not)
except for the sake of the Bestower.

O child of God, in a circle bob and fly
the painted ponies of the merry-go-round.