The dark-red goblet This morning the wells at
Meherabad overflowed, threatening to drown all
inhabitants. My little boat was
swamped by a great wave. Can my heartsong be heard
above the ocean’s roar? When the truth of His
rain reaches our ears, we’ll be drenched, o
pilgrims, inside and out. The Beloved is pouring
His wine! Offer the dark-red goblet
of your heart. Nothing to cling to;
nowhere to go but down into the vasty
blue depths. O child of God, drown in
the Ocean of Love, leaving not a trace of
yourself on this rugged, illusory shore.
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