Make good

Make good                                                                                       

All my words hang on a promise I cannot make

and cannot keep – a vanity of imagination,

breath and blood, if the promise has no maker;

if the promise has no keeper.

Shall I continue, o Lord, to tap out

Your timeworn promise on my alphabet board?

Grace, love, salvation – fine sentiments! 

but, paper-thin words, and – through my throat –

without substance or luminosity;

indistinct stirrings in the half-light,

the nether-world, the darkness

of ignorance mixed with the darkness of faith;

yet, I praise the promise and the Promise-keeper!

Lord, don’t leave me

twisting wordlessly in the wind

at world’s end but, gather me sweetly

in Your arms and make good, make good,

make good Your ancient-given promise.

O child of God, what the Beloved requires of you

is faith, forbearance, obedience and attempted artistry.

A hint of why

A hint of why                                                                                    

The Ocean has come again

to tell us we are not adrift;

more like a river, running towards

and away, of urgency and purpose;

the Ocean has come again,

to tell us we are not islands –

embracing, sighs and gazes,

the wiping away of tears.

The Ocean, labyrinths

of Love and endeavor,

vast, breathless depths,

come again

  

to tell us we have no shore,

strongest evidence to the contrary;

no beginning nor end; enemies

and companions – our very own Self.

The Ocean has come again

to tell us our loneliness

is but a bitter-tinged drop

in the immeasurable loneliness of God.

O child of God, such an import offers a hint

of why Meher lived in silence.