How strange that
I sought you for so long;
when Yours were the eyes
I looked with all along…
In Your voice, I cried out;
on Your feet, I carried on;
with Your mind
I dreamt my troubled dreams.
If only I’d paid
more attention
I might have noticed:
Whenever You breathed, I exhaled;
whenever Your eyes closed
I laid myself to rest.
If the moon believes
it shines with its own light,
yell up to Heaven: “Not quite!”
If not for the Sun,
we would know the moon only
by its nothingness:
the occlusion of nearby stars.
Hence the mystic is nothing – a void;
when he shines you see only the Sun.
He has no voice of his own;
no feet to carry him on;
no sight, no mind:
All that he has is borrowed.
Know who you are without Him
and perhaps
you will know Him without you.
I sought you for so long;
when Yours were the eyes
I looked with all along…
In Your voice, I cried out;
on Your feet, I carried on;
with Your mind
I dreamt my troubled dreams.
If only I’d paid
more attention
I might have noticed:
Whenever You breathed, I exhaled;
whenever Your eyes closed
I laid myself to rest.
If the moon believes
it shines with its own light,
yell up to Heaven: “Not quite!”
If not for the Sun,
we would know the moon only
by its nothingness:
the occlusion of nearby stars.
Hence the mystic is nothing – a void;
when he shines you see only the Sun.
He has no voice of his own;
no feet to carry him on;
no sight, no mind:
All that he has is borrowed.
Know who you are without Him
and perhaps
you will know Him without you.