SIX

I hear you cry.
For whom do you cry? I love you all.

Look at my handiwork.
O, you see so little of what I do.

You cannot see me by your eyes.
You must see me by mine.

I bow to you.
You bow at my chair, but do you bow to me?

I am here.
I am the dark presence full of light.

I am the mass of darkness crossing the room.
Let me envelop you.

I take away your breath and give you mine.
Now you are the trees weeping outside.

Now you are the cardinal, the ant, the squirrel.
Now you are everything.

It's your birthday.
Yes, I have not forgotten.

Forget your birthday.
You are the traffic humming down the road.

You are the sky.
You are the cyclone smashing Calcutta.

O Davis, you are me.
For me, do not cry.


(10/13, a. m.)

 

LISTENING TO MEHER BABA IN THE BARN, p. 6
2013 © Davis Taylor