Are you not the grand deputy of Mother Divine?
Oh, are you not Mother herself,
humiliating human mind in each corner of the planet?
Are you not Love itself, infinite-bound?
Rooted in no thing, branching into everything?
Season fell. You reflected its beauty in perfection.
An owl came. Your love changed not.
An owl went. Your love unchanged.
A vulture came. Your loving embrace unchanged.
Did you count their feathers?
Did you ask the bird’s origin?
Did you hide a branch?
Did you save the best for last?
Did you say I offer myself only on weekdays?
Did you not listen to their tunes?
Were you lost in thoughts of lost fruits? departed lovers?
Were you counting your years?
Longing for the perfect spring to come at last?
Did you lose sight of your Being to the flashes of light and shadow?
Were you perchance forgetful, some day, of your force of life? love?
Maybe another palm could give you fresher leaves?
Did you deny the existence of Sun? Sky?
Perhaps you were unsure?
Was your gaze ever lowered from the Sun?
Salutations forgotten to better dreams?
Did you protest the grotesque winds of time in rage?
File a petition for seasons?
Did you part to find your self in a land of better scents?
Did you wish for summer in snow?
A fall breeze in summer’s scorching sun?
Did you keep count of daily visitors?
Pale away in loneliness?
Did you not shine brighter of greatness in seclusion?
Was sky uninviting one afternoon?
Did that day come when perfection was too much? uninteresting?
Did you have to take a day to work your darkness?
Did an unfortunate work of circumstance,
not prevent you from reaching your perfect Self?
April 22, 2015