Rubble and dust I misunderstood, years ago, when You first brought out the chisel and hammer, imagining You would shape me into a worthy likeness and I welcomed the blows as best I might. Now I see, Your perfect aim is to reduce me to rubble and dust (a tedious task for the tall cold stone of me). Rubble and dust – rubble which has no center and dust with no grit or blood. I should have understood it sooner – the likeness of You is the absence of me. O child, God is found, said Meher, where you are not.
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