Here nor there

Here nor there                                                                                           

You can’t get there from here. 

There is here already,

(here is there already). So what to do?

Cease the journey; cease the search

without the evident criteria

of having arrived.

The criteria is the error.

There is here without you.

(Here is there without you).

Someone is not going to make it

here nor there

and that someone is you.

O child of God, the truth of union

is neither here nor there.

The illusion of two

The illusion of two                                                                                  

Somewhere along the line we are told,

everyone is destined for the supreme goal.

Suffering is an alternative to infinite bliss

because, apparently, an alternative,

even an illusory one, is better than no alternative;

necessary at least for a time,

to create the illusion of two.

That’s what existence is all about, I gather –

a break in the pattern, a temporary, comparative

alternative to blissful, eternal Oneness.

O child of God, we are not we but One.

How wondrous the journey to realize that truth!

Death row confessions

Death row confessions                                                                                   

Make You my constant companion

because You are the only One

ethereal enough to slip through the bars,

past the guard, tolerate my incessant,  

incoherent death row confessions. 

If my isolation can be breached,

the possibilities expand exponentially –

One slips through and then all the others

crowding my cell into absurdity, epiphany

and obliteration, stepping outside myself,

at last unbound, to wander the unimaginable

terrain below a dazzling blue eternal sky.

O child of God, let the One true friend penetrate

the Maya-built, illusion-maintained walls of separation.

Limited edition

Limited edition

Unfathomable, said my Lord.
Just try to love Me.

Not interposing words of our own
within His pervasive silence.

One look worth a thousand words
into His holy, iconoclastic eyes.

Meher urging us to see Him beyond
the patterned, scripted, limited edition

of our interpretations as to His true
and final underlying purpose,

as He really is,
in the realm of certitude,

love the only lesson, not one
teaching apart from it to ponder.

O child of God, the truth of being lies well
beyond our tangled web of words.

This realm of zero

This realm of zero                                                                                  

Love alone is real, said my Lord. All else is zero. 

And how do I hold up my head in this realm of zero?

How do I grow strong and lucid; become noble,

find my kindness in this realm of zero?

How do I cherish virtue, see God everywhere;

care about others in this realm of zero?

Only by clinging to the One Who descends,

bestows, prevails –  Love Itself

in Its earthly human splendor.

Surrender, then, will be no sacrifice,

queuing up for His everything,

offering my nothingness for annihilation,

the only favor God grants in this heartbreaking,

inconsequential realm of zero.

 

O child of God, Love is the conquering hero

dropped behind the enemy lines.

Bulldog tenacious

Bulldog tenacious                                                                                  

Am I bulldog tenacious in holding on to Your damaan

while faithfully querying the truth of Your claims,

Your promise, Your status? Or, are You the bulldog?

Your jaws never loosening for a moment’s respite,

dragging me where You will, where I will

take in, at last, the rich and charnel breeze,

open my untouched chest to absorb

Your immortal answer to the haunting,

harrowing, pitiless question

Your presence has provoked in me.

O child of God, you follow your Beloved

but all you really want, is to go back to sleep.

Where myself ends

Where myself ends                                                                                

Every moment I complete the perfect wholeness

and where myself ends, the other begins.

Myself is determined by the other –

my shape, position, duration; my capacity

and appearance. What do I ask God to change?

The moon’s course for my sake?

A star’s trajectory? The structure of a snowflake?

The scent of a jonquil? The whim of a schoolgirl

walking home down a footworn path? 

O petitioner, what are you prepared

to demand of God in order that your uninformed,

incessant and arbitrary wishes be granted?

O child of God, to surrender means to withdraw

your every request from the One Who made thee.

The certitude of my ignorance

The certitude of my ignorance                                                               

In this poetry I have long lamented specific encumbrances

and limitations imposed by my absolute ignorance,

not for the sake of humility nor a mere heads up to the reader,

not to hedge my improbable bets but a disingenuous

pretext to explore the one fixed absolute in my life –

the certitude of my ignorance, that it might one day bear fruit,

be turned inside out, laid down to become

the very source and root, the core of my conviction.

O child of God, embrace your ignorance;

there can be no faith without it.