The Middle of Nowhere



There is no rudder here to guide,
No sail to catch the wind,
No stars by which to set a course,
No land toward which to dream.

I am adrift,
Here…
In the middle of Nowhere,
In the middle of… Everywhere.

What am I?
Where am I?
Where have I come from?
Where am I going?
What is this… Life?

What can such a one,
Knowing nothing of anything,
Say to those drifting by,
In the way of “pointing”.

How is it possible,
That Bliss fills the Heart,
Of one so lost,
Drifting wide-eyed in Wonder,
A Drunkard… not a sage?

And more wondrous still…
How is it possible,
That some “Catch” this Bliss,
By merely drifting by,
Through wordless Grace alone?

What Mystical Alchemy is at play,
Beyond all reckoning of mind and reason,
To bring about “there”,
What Shines, Freely Gifted,
“Here”?

For Knowledge, not present here,
Cannot be imparted,
Nor any Way with certitude pointed,
By such a one.

“How can I help anyone,
When I, myself, am so utterly lost,
And have no knowledge to impart?”
I asked my Baba.

“I would have you no other way.” he replied.
“You needn't know anything,
Or say anything.
Love requires… only your Presence.”

And my Baba was right,
For the Bliss that inhabits this Heart,
Is born not of knowledge and certitude,
But from Unimaginable Grace.

Surrendered,
Fallen… Intoxicated,
Into the fathomless depths,
Of the Ocean of Bliss.

Drifting,
Here…
In the middle of Nowhere,
In the middle of… Everywhere.

Home.