In Honor of Shabistari

We cannot storm the spiritual heights

Through the might of logic; God’s gift

Of faith is needed to lift us

beyond the prison of space and

Time … this is the essence of Grace.

Drink the poison that will slay

The inner vampire who prefers

The shadows of ignorance to the day’s

spreading illumination that

brings realization to our

precarious situation

Reason is feeble and constrained,

like an eye looking at the sun.

We need the intoxication

Which comes from a cup of

Remembrance that leaves the ego

Behind and helps us to ride wings

Of transcendence to another

Side of Being that is present

But invisible to the mind.

We are a plurality that

Arises from the mystery

Of unity, and like drops of spray

We are journeying back to the

Ocean which is our origin

and means of dissolution from

our lower selves, yet we seek to

defy gravity and remain

in the air amidst the many.

But, the trajectory of each

Drop is fixed and beyond the reach

Of created beings to change.

Something in the heart resonates

With the cry of truth that comes from

The Ocean like the plaintive sigh

Of a mother calling children

Back to their home … reminding them

They are not alone in the world.

Yet, we busy ourselves dreaming

Of alluring marvels and lights

That delight our sense of who we

Think we are, as we lose track of

the night descending around us.

The miracle of life will not

Be discovered through mystical

Sight but in the worship of truth

Since all else is nothing but pride

And misdirected intention.

We each have an affinity

With one of the many Names of

Divinity, from which we come

Forth and to which we return while

Singing the praises of our Host.

All we need to do is take two

Steps, with the first requiring us

To leave the dust of selfhood; in

the next, we unite with the Friend.

There are many numbers, but just

One counts, and one should see the One,

And hear the One, and say the One,

And know the One without other.

Discard the sense of separate

Existence, for there is nothing

but illusion and delusion

contained in one’s sense of being.

We spend life outside the tavern

Of the lovers of God, hearing

The stories of disappearance,

Drawn by a music that leads to

Forgetfulness of worldly things.

We long to go in and gamble

At the table of eternal

Stakes where fortunes change in the blink

And wink of a mysterious

Dealer who has fixed the odds in

Our favor if we’ll take a chance.