Words

Words

My heart sings when You come near, or falls silent.

You offer wine, yes – but more often, holy bread.

You put Your finger to my lips.

Words, You gesture, never tell the Truth.

You gave our tongues one sweetness:

Meher Baba.  Meher Baba.  Meher Baba.

You put on Your coat so Truth could walk around.

You took form, but held Your tongue.

Open the heart’s ear, o pilgrim,

and the Beloved will serenade you.

O child of God, listen to His silence.

Let it guide you toward the true poetry of Infinite Being.

                                    (from The Garden of Surrender, 2004)