This morning the wells at Meherabad overflowed,
threatening to drown all inhabitants.
My little boat was swamped by a great wave.
Can my heartsong be heard above the ocean’s roar?
When the truth of His rain reaches our ears,
we’ll be drenched, o pilgrims, inside and out.
The Beloved is pouring His wine!
Offer the dark-red goblet of your heart.
Nothing to cling to; nowhere to go
but down into the vasty blue depths.
O child of God, drown in the Ocean of Love,
leaving not a trace of yourself on this rugged, illusory
shore.
(from The Garden of Surrender, 2004)
No comments:
Post a Comment