Crushed

Crushed

O Beloved, You are infinitely and eternally free

and yet, You are bound to us ... and bound by our limitations.

You laid aside the garb of Infinite Power

to walk among us in the flesh.

The harvest of an entire vineyard, crushed and poured

          into one bottle,

and then, that rare wine is handed around among the multitudes.

O Ancient One, You put on yet another lovely coat

          to roam this dusty world!

Patched and threadbare after a time, You discarded it.

Countless ages ago, a naked God put on the garment of Illusion.

One day, Illusion will be cast off, like a threadbare coat.

Then, Your lovers will find their way home,

surrendering in one last, unencumbered embrace.

O child of God, drink from that ageless bottle

and cling to the garment that veils the Essence.

                           (from The Garden of Surrender)

Window of time

Window of time                                                                                 

O Beloved, You were silent.

Remind us of that

as the intellectuals chase Your words

through the mazes

of God Speaks and Lord Meher,

capturing them like butterflies –

pinned behind glass,

only their bright shells left;

silent as if the man Himself was behind glass

gesturing Truth through that small window of time.

In our dark dreaming, let us not expect words

to awaken us but the Word of His Love,

the Real Word

we have been forever longing to hear.

O child of God, listen with the heart’s ear –

where words and silence both strike to the core.

                       (from A Jewel in the Dust)

Grace intruded

Grace intruded                                                                                

Grace intruded upon my habitual sorrow

and marked me for its own

like a pattern of ink under the skin, 

like an imperfectly minted coin,       

a misprinted postage stamp

or a raw diamond selected for its flaws.

Plucked like a flower

for a vase on a bedside table;

like a wild colt culled from the herd –

lassoed, corralled and broken;

like a shell found on the beach

or an injured bird unable to resume

its migratory route,

I left the broad path

for the narrow and the crooked 

and now – no path at all . . .

making my way as everyone must

who tramps toward the gates –

without precedent,

yet, with a Companion who by turns comforts,

inspires, fortifies and illumines the way ahead.

O child of God, Grace is beyond your ken.

To whom much is given much is required.

(from A Jewel in the Dust)

Beautiful birds

Beautiful birds

O Beloved, You bathed the feet of lepers,

rinsing away centuries of accumulated dirt.

Then, You touched Your holy forehead

to their distended stumps.

Beautiful birds in ugly cages, You called them.

Only You could see their true beauty.

In the years I have been with you, O Beloved,

parts of me have atrophied and fallen away.

Through the eyes of the world, I now seem disfigured;

crippled and useless.

I am a beggar at Your door, desperate to remain

in Your good graces.

I am slowly dying, one appurtenance at a time.

O Beloved, let the beautiful flame of a bird within me

sing fervently among these ruins!

Let me serenade You as the cage that entraps me

cracks and rusts away.

O child of God, rejoice within your ugly cage.

Your Beloved is that beautiful bird that flares and sings

          brightly within you.

                  (from The Garden of Surrender, 2004)