The Rains of Heaven

When I wandered in search of Heaven,
I encountered villages along the way,
And inquired of each, the path to follow.

In each, a different way was pointed,
And the “correct” manner in which to walk.
And in each, a different description of Heaven.

Each description was of… something else,
Something other than my Heart's Desire,
An Ancient Memory of a Love forgotten.

When I spoke of this Love's guiding Mercy,
Surely bringing me one day to its Fulfillment,
They mocked my naivete, saying…

Not until…

Not until I stopped doing this, and began doing that.
Not until I renounced, and led a chaste life.
Not until I purified my impure nature.

Not until I meditated perfectly.
Not until I accrued sufficient merit.
Not until I transcended.

Not until…

Not until I saw as they saw,
Not until I understood as they understood,
Not until I experienced as they experienced.

Poor villagers,
Huddled behind the walls of the known,
Fearing the Wilderness more than hell itself.

I did naught of what I was told I must,
And reveled in those things I was told I must not,
Stoned along the way by the righteous.

My Heart, Surrendered, a Captive of Love,
My Mind a Dreamer of Unimaginable Grace,
My Spirit, a Sobbing Lover in Exile.

Wherever I found myself,
However “sinful” my thoughts, speech, or actions,
I felt always and everywhere… Unbearable Longing.

In each step, each breath, every heartbeat,
I walked, always, with a Heart in tears,
For Love as yet unknown, but Known.

And living thus, a Wilderness Wanderer,
With Longing, alone, the substance of my sadhana,
“I“ found Her… at last…and died in Her arms.

It is not what you do, or do not do,
But the Quality of your Love,
That brings the Rains of Heaven.

Drenched, Soaking, Enraptured… I swear it.

I swear it.