Someone is knocking at the heart’s door. No one’s home.
Why do I wander ever outside myself?
When will I answer that knocking?
Not with words, but with my whole being?
O child of God, dip into His silence –
and let the streams run clear.
If you must speak, recite poetry for the lovelorn.
Or learn a few Tavern songs.
Lifetimes of searching; the elusive One just beyond my
fingers.
Love is a homesickness scented with neem trees.
As a child, I wondered where all the trains were going.
They ended up in Ahmednagar, roaring past the Tomb
of my
Beloved.
Passengers have bought tickets for various destinations.
But they’re in God’s territory now.
O child of God, for many years you’ve chased the rumor of
Union.
With ruined heart, surrender now and graciously accept
defeat.
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