Your infinite unknowing

Your infinite unknowing                                                                                     
 
Written with a crook’d finger, this poem
in the dust of the earth.  Perhaps, you’ll read it
 
before wind and rain, foot traffic
render it illegible (as if it never existed).
 
What you read will become a part
of the vast illusion of your knowledge;
 
something you need to hear, though it’s not quite true.
If you pass it by unread, it will become
 
a vital component of your infinite unknowing –
of your karma and just who in illusion you are.
 
I keep writing these poems as if I know what to say;
they’ve become a lockstep part of my gait,
 
my own illusory knowledge,
but I feel I’m being pulled slowly to a halt,
 
my small, urgent utterings a non-voice
joining the great silence of Meher.
 
O child of God, everything you say
is inherently false, yet it’s all part of God’s game.