Inside a cage of bones, the brash parrot
waddles on its perch, a voluble green flame
shrieking and squalling, much to the delight of some
and to others, dismay, for so addled
and vulgar a creature to be declaiming,
in shrill mimicry, the Master’s wisdom.
But, those who consider the parrot’s words
mere exploitation, fail to grasp the true stature
of its wee, clamoring heart
which, from the first encounter, registered
the import and majesty of the Master’s words
and forthwith caught fire, dedicating
its rather ludicrous, inadequate
apparatus of being to the continuous praise
and celebration of the Master’s perfect Truth
to anyone who will listen. The particulars
the parrot may not fathom but the great gist
of the tale, its heart knows and owns and tirelessly repeats.
O child of God, speak with the impeccable authority
of your own unshakable faith in Meher Baba.
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