Suspect death
When you begin to suspect
death
is not an exit but a
roundabout
and you feel your ribs as
bars of a cage;
your loneliness ghostly –
chronic and eternal,
then the God within you
begins
to elbow His way to the
surface.
You think it’s a quest but
it’s a dismantling.
It’s not life eternal you’re
after, but permanent death,
finding out later it must
come to you
(like deaths of the body) of
its own accord,
a predestined step toward
resurrection;
the last one-and-only-true
death to undergo
before (by Meher’s promise)
you cease to exist entirely
within His everlasting
Oneness.
O child of God, let your
imagination soar
but only to aid you in the
matters at hand.
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