The turn of a knob

The turn of a knob                                                                                      
 
I hold my tongue (as You suggested
through a lifetime of silence)
 
and meet You in that immeasurable space
where real things are exchanged.
 
Even in these raw, preliminary stages,
I’m allowed through that door
 
where at the turn of a knob
I’m greeted by Your silence.
 
There to listen instead of barter,
quiescent rather than seeking,
 
immobile instead of on the prowl,
humble instead of scheming –
 
o Lord, I am the silence I listen to.
You are the silence I listen to.
 
We mingle there as one –
as I mutely place my hand in Yours.
 
O child of God, continue with your raucous verses.
Meher’s silence contains all sound.