When I would sit to “meditate”,
When I would strive to do,
Or refrain from doing,
The Beloved would whisper…
What are you doing?
Am I not here?
Where would you go to find me,
My Beloved, My own?
What would you do to gain my Love,
Which is now, has ever been,
And will ever be yours,
My Beloved, My own?
Why do you hurt me so,
As if My Love was conditioned,
On renunciation, and discipline,
On accomplishment, and merit?
Do you not Know me,
My Beloved, My own?
Have I not shown you,
Again, and again…
I am here for you… Always,
Without cause, beyond conditionality,
In the Wellspring of your Heart,
Ever Present… Here…
Shining in you… As You,
And… Beyond we two,
In the Formless Ecstasy of Heaven,
My Beloved, My own.
Be Still… and Know that I Am Love.
