Let Her Pour



If you're thinking of all you've read,
The many Paths to God,
Or realization of the Self,
All of those many fingers…

Pointing to Heaven…

Think until thinking does no good,
Until the tepid water of “knowledge”,
Fails to satisfy the Heart's Desire,
For Divine Intoxication…

And the Thirst for Wine consumes you.

Then Feel…
Feel what it is,
That cannot be found by thought,
Cannot, therefore, be described…

But can, none the less, be Felt.

And along this Path of Feeling,
Never stop and declare, “This is it!”
Opening a stall in the spiritual marketplace,
And speaking with certitude and authority…

The Way, the “truth”, and the Light.

Rather… wait…
Wait…
Until the one who would declare,
Vanishes, along with… Everything.

And only Heaven remains.

And when you and the world return,
Rest in the ever available Presence,
Of that Formless Radiance,
Shining from the Sun of your Heart…

Into your Manifest Experience.

Then… if you would do the world a favor,
Resist the temptation,
To pour the Inexpressible,
Into an existing mold…

Or a new one of your creation.

If you must speak of it,
Do so in Love and Compassion,
And, from a Vessel empty of yourself…

Let… Her… pour.