I don’t have any
answers.
I don’t have any
questions.
You know my words
before I speak.
I know nothing of
Your language.
To my chatter of
fearful irrelevancies,
Your replies only
echo
my own inadequate
vocabulary.
Yet, even with
all this, I swear
I am getting
nearer to the Truth.
The Truth of You
and Your silent Presence.
I don’t know how
it works –
this mime and
pantomime!
But I beg You,
Lord – keep up the conversation.
Let me hear and
come to know better than my own
that voice of
Yours not formed by a human mouth
and heard only in
the broken-open human heart.
O child of God,
Meher’s silence forms the one Word
you have been ever
longing to hear.
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