SEEING

The moon
appeared so much nearer
the earth last night.

Could this be so?

Then,
much later the
stars seemed to
reach beyond
the space they normally
occupy as if
beckoning a pilgrim Home.

Ahh, how wonderful
if one could witness
God within oneself
as clearly.

My Beloved whispers,
"True faith is a form of sight
and not of blindness."

And with His kiss
a whole world opens from
within.

SNIP WOOD, ACCEPT WATER

Branches, reaching endlessly
in all directions
need to be snipped.

As a tree in Autumn
abandons it's foliage
with the promise
of Spring

So does the heart
of the Lover
shed strangers
with assurance
of the dawn.

The difference
being:
with the disciple
the Ocean
now controls
the pounding.

An Oath
has transpired
a Contract
signed

The monsoon
has only
just
begun.

AWAITING THE RENDEZVOUS

Although her eyes
appear to be green
or hazel,
or even chestnut

Only by Him
is the hue
of Sky blue
Truly witnessed

For He has the
ability
the Divine right
to invade
her soul

and see Himself
in the recesses
in actions
in promise
in prayer
in remembrance
and in song.

It is in that place
where He longs
for her return.

It is in that place
where He waits
by the edge
of a shimmering
pool of blue

for the Rendezvous
of the ages
and her
imminent drowning.

ABANDONING THE LABYRINTH

As the moon rises,
so does her heart.

The crescent
resembles her breast
and she can feel
it pulsate with the
song of millions.

Will she stand
within the sickle
and its
apparent protection

Or unaccompanied
dive from its edge
losing herself
forever within the
mouth of God.

Sensing the multitude
she tears a
hole in the abyss

Abandoning the
labyrinth
she leaps

hands folded
in praise
heartfirst
swallowed
by the Ocean
of compassion.

I AM THE OCEAN

In the darkness
the void
a seashell descends
with nowhere
to land

God has tossed a
token into the
abyss

As it flutters
spins like a dervish
a world escapes
from the small
hole
near it's clasp

The Beloved
has whispered
to Himself
"Who Am I."

And His sweet breath
created this illusion
so we will come
to know
ourselves as Self.

The whim
His whim
is why we are here.

The seashell
is the Om point.
It is the very bellybutton
of God.

OUR FATHER

Our Father
was summoned
by the Five
Beautiful, Perfect
Souls

"Come, Darling,
come lead Your
children Home."

We have only to
set our gaze
upon
the beauty of His
Glorious Face

Take His hand
and follow
His footsteps

Oh Holy Love,
what a pain
in my heart

You are so close
and yet so far

Look my friends,
He has tossed
bread crumbs
along the Path

If you falter,
the One who
lifts you
is none other than He.

If you lose hold
of His hand,
if His fingers
fall from your grasp

The Beloved has
left a trail
A Mountain it seems,
sometimes

But if one's heart
is directed upward
the Summit is
an easy one to
climb.

Come with me
tread the Path
to the throne of
God within.

NIGHTINGALE DRESSED IN BLUE

The Beloved
sent a nightingale
dressed in blue
clothing to
my window.

She uttered Song
on the Breeze,
telling of Love's
Truths.

Along came the
Camel Driver,
dressed as I.

Hold onto My coat
dear one,
The collar,
of vast importance.

I long to be worthy
of the attributes of
the flask, my Friend.

Do not wash the glass
with a hand other than that
befitting morning time.

The fragments may spill
and cause many
unnecessary lives;

But worry not.
If the wine glass slips
the Friend has the
Secret to True
Union.

THE KULLAH

My Beloved,
You have placed
a Kullah upon my
brow.

God replied,
"Wear it, and it
will help you in
understanding My
Love."

His sword
has swallowed
many tarks;

His Wine has injured
my head in such
a manner that
there is no turning
back.

The glass is nearly full,
and,
should it shatter
due to excess,
and the droplets must spatter

They will only drench
the heart of the saki;
the Home of the
Divine Beloved

Finding a door
swung open wide
to announce
His residence
in song.

THE LOCK

Dear ones, if you believe I am
referring to a device
used to trap one
you are indeed correct.


My Beloved's curl
has captured me
and the door
to my heart has been
locked from within.

There,
surrounded by His tresses,
no strangers
are allowed entry.

The Beloved One has
lured me away
with Divine Perfume
and now, dear pilgrims,
there is
no escaping Its intoxication.

THE SPIRAL STAIRCASE

Dangling before me,
I see one of
my Beloved's Tresses.

A spiral staircase
leading to Infinite Mind.

As His hair
is drenched with
the perfumed oil
of a thousand lives,

I swirl,
mercilessly downward
and begin the ascent
once again.

You will not
dissuade me,
my Darling.

You have enraptured
the very drop of Your
Own creation.

LIFETIMES

She sees a stone
skipping along
a cool mountain pool
of shimmering gold
a glistening glittering
sphere of antiquity.

Each time it touches
the brilliant water
a lifetime
reverberates
upon the stillness
the calm.

A man-child
drenched in uncertainty
the ripples
circles
so much
not yet experienced
the boy dressed in
a blue suit with short
trousers and a
starched white collar
eyes as bright as saucers
in a library dimly lit.

With the next skip
the puddles waltz
and she is a ballerina
an ice dancer
in the spendour of the
waters depths
and heights
her partner has
not yet revealed His
true identity.

Another, and
then yet
another skip
of the pebbles dance
and she witnesses
the agelessness
of a woman
wrinkled and
knowing
bent and broken
but knowing what?

Knowing the ages
have taken her to
this space in time
this epic
accumulation
of thousands and
thousands of lives
the dream of the
sages, the dream
of God.

The sand dust pebble
the drop of the beginningless
beginning
has begun
its descent
into the shoreless Ocean
of bliss
and she cannot
escape
the excruciating enfoldment
the crashing of waves upon
waves and lives into
lives and
yet she sees the inevitable
the involution
torturous
intoxicating
rapturous.

The drop
has descended
upon the floating leaf
of the lotus
so familiar
intensely personal
the naked soiled feet
of the man-child
the destiny
of a soul's longing
for God
for Self.

The raft was
constructed ages
ago
by my Beloved
and I find myself
riding in harmony
within the womb
of God.

MEHERABAD

There is a solitude
here in Meherabad
experienced no where
else
on Earth.

The breeze through
the window brings
the sounds of crickets
chirping and rickshaws
rumbling
motor scooters
blazing
paths not tread
by most.

The quietude of
this place bears
the Masters Silence
and it is held here
in antiquity.

It awaits
wanders and finds
hearts longing for the
gift of His Song.

The morning will
bring the galloping of
angel paws across a
deccan plateau
a feverish impulse
to get somewhere,
Somewhere.

It will bring the hooves
of water buffalos in
their determined and
lumbering stride
harnessed by men
but they are the creatures
deep in thought and
consequence.

All rise early
knowing the Master
is in every hill and valley
in each crevice
and that The Beloved is
soon to speak His
Heart Song
soon to speak
His Word.

Anticipation, rapture
in all of creation.
There is a blissfulness
which blankets
Meherabad and
envelops all
who tread the dust
that caressed
His lovely
Feet.