ASK BABA TO DO IT FOR YOU

 
Only a deep Cloud of a Man can rain rains over parched earth.
My gods are diminishing... Since you are a jealous God,
one lovely in vanity of Alone-selfness, let the Mill-of-you
grind this to flour for the hungry-of-you — or let their hunger
grow into a crop of hunger so that they
will the more seek you, and cast this as dust to the wind.

Or, when the grinding is done either to flour or dust, give me a word
a lovely singing word in my mouth, some honey-word, some wine-word
to utter in singing — not for many but for thou in my ear
to delight in; so that my ear may aid mine eyes to fix themselves
only on your dear Form: a singingness of a word —
the lovely word of your Name, thou beloved One, you.

Become unstuck, God, in your entrancement in this which is called me
so that your own love for yourself may be released in a clear stream.
Why do you allow yourself to fall into error, attaching yourself
to everything you see through these eyes? You are the ever-free
blissful One — I am the veil between yourself and you. Tear this veil
which is between us — but if you cannot, ask BABA to do it for you.