What to Do?



What is there to be done?
If I grasp after Her, She flees.

If I do thus, and refrain from thus,
Her Love, Conditionless, is offended.

If I make a Goddess of Her,
She cries at the loss of our Intimacy.

If I move in concept of Her,
She wonders why I am eating dust.

I am Her brother, and She my sister.
If I do not tease Her, She feels unloved.

I am Her son, and She my mother.
To offer recompense for Her Love,
Would break Her Heart.

I am Her Lover, and She my Beloved.
She fills my Heart with a Rapture,
Born of Heaven's Ecstasy.

Where would I go to find Her,
When She Shines… Here?

What would I do to win her Love,
Which is without cause?

I cried one day,
With the Whole of my Being…

And She Came…

Both of us Vanishing in Heaven.
Which, thereafter, Shone in this Heart.

What to do?

Ache with the Whole of your Being,
Cry from the Depths of your Heart.

These, alas, are not “techniques”,
Not “strategies” employed to an end.

These must be native to our Heart,
And carry us away, helpless…

As Prisoners of Love.

Among the infinite paths,
Mine was of Love and Surrender.

This is the only Way I know,
And all that I can speak of.

Sadly, I am not much use.