I let You into my
heart.You produced a key to long-locked
door. It led to a cellar filled with wine. O Lord, those are my
teardrops on those dusty bottles! My tongue is too drunk to
speak properly now but I will moan for You. Moonlight pours through a
small window just above the street. Let’s drink to Hafiz – to
his outrageous love. And what of Rumi? – his
poetic, methodical breaking down of the barriers between
lover and God. O Beloved, my heart seems
so spacious when You are there, sweeping through the
house in Your flowing white gown; Your arms fluid and
graceful, Your birdlike hands making gestures for love,
grace, forgiveness, mercy. Atop Your head, Your
hands form a crown – the gesture for a king. O child of God, prepare
your heart for the day King Meher arrives in
full regalia never again to leave.
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