This rare sort of love

This rare sort of love                                                                                  
 
I’m used to it now – this slow,
waist-deep fording of the river;
 
the occasional sinkhole stumble; coming up
breathless, sober, fighting to keep my head
 
above water, my footing in the current’s sweep. 
But where once was (invariably) panic
 
there is now forbearance
and the knowledge of His ways.
 
Through devotion to a Perfect One,
comes the revulsion of self
 
and the effort of effacement
as desires of innumerable lifetimes
 
are pared down to the one –
to know this rare sort of love, His love,
 
while still in the human body,
feet planted firmly upon terra firma.
 
O child of God, when you stumble upon this love,
rid yourself of everything standing in your way.