Serenity comes only with surrender,
and trust that all is ultimately one.
Duality is merely a pretender,
and God plays on this stage to have some fun.
Illusion is composed of form and gender;
of planets, moon and stars, and blazing sun.
But death compiles us all inside a blender–
when atoms merge, apparent form’s undone.
Though sure of this, I sometimes still forget.
And then you’re there to pull the veils aside,
remind me not to lose sight nor to let
my focus on pure consciousness to slide
away and hide the truth that’s firmly set
(yet can be falsified by stubborn tide
when mind is caught in habit’s sticky net,
aligned with sadness, anger, greed or pride.)
If I did not have you, Beloved Master,
this life might have resulted in disaster!
This life might have resulted in disaster
if mind had wandered from the golden goal.
But you are there, available to plaster
the cracks along this path to super-soul.
I used to think I wanted to go faster
but now I have contentment in my bowl,
in faith that you’re a competent forecaster,
so none of us will end up as a troll!
Deep gratitude to you cannot be told
except by tears occasionally wept,
and ever-glowing confidence that’s bold
because I work for you, a true Adept.
I trust you to perfect the inner mold
in time, when all mind-corridors are swept
completely clean of karma, black or gold,
so lastly pristine consciousness is kept.
Although your methods can seem rather stern,
Beloved, it is you for whom I yearn.