Sunday, February 27, 2005

In the Garden


“Oh my lover, walk with me
in this garden now at dusk-
the joining time that stands between
the dark of day
and light of night.”

Happy I was to be with him,
my heart content,
my mind at rest,
and when he took my hand in his,
like dusk joins night with day,
I no longer knew where he did end
or where it was that I began.
Content was I, yet in my mind,
one silly thought could not dismiss.

“What can it be?” He asked,
“that at this moment of communion’s bliss
ensnares your thoughts in reason’s trap?”

“A silly thought.” I shyly said.
His eyes were oceans,
their shores his lids.
“And folly itself I must have to be,
to voice this thought and risk the
moments peace.”

His right brow arched-
a mountain’s peak beyond the oceans shore,
while the left hung low and flat,
an endless plane commanding that my
speech go forth.

“It’s really nothing,” I meekly said,
“but if you insist,
it was when you said that day is dark
and night is light-
I could not but wonder
if you had said it right?”

The smallest wisp of cloud appeared upon the ocean vast,
and on the garden’s breeze a ripple of a chill was cast.
Before us lying near the path, a man asleep appeared to me.

“Tell me,” my beloved spoke,
“asleep or awake do you take him to be?”

“Asleep.” I said.
“His eyes are closed,
snoring sound rise from his throat.”

“Yet awake is he within his dreams.”
My companion said to me.
“Within the shadow play that is his mind,
he dreams himself to be,
and takes the image that he sees
to be Reality.”

And so we continued along the path,
joined by hands still clasped,
when soon another man appeared,
and I heard the question that I feared-

“Asleep or awake do you take him to be?”
My beloved smiled.
“What do you think?”

“Asleep to me is what he seems,
yet perhaps, awake within his dreams?”

Laughter furrowed the sky
above the oceans of his eyes
and without speech conveyed,
“Good try! Is not this garden walk such fun?”I said,

“To be with you is joy sublime,
but your questions oft disturb my mind.
‘Asleep or awake?’
How can I know such things?
Oh what perplexity
your questions bring”

“This is true,”
was his reply,
“when you see the point,
but not the line,
while my vision is perfect
and sees beyond time,
the plane and the cube,
the dreams of the mind.”

“Now this man before us that we see
is withdrawn to dreamless sleep.
Within his soul he dwells in peace,
not knowing his self, or dreams,
or this body that we see.”

“But were he to awaken,
without disturbing his sleep,
Eternal Bliss would be his to keep.
Truly awake his real self would be,
no more illusion would he see.”

“My dear, it seem strange,
even to me,
that every creature goes to sleep,
and in their nightly sojourns
reach the state their souls seek,
only to awaken
with the dawn of each day,
into the dream of life’s illusion,
forgetting self,
forgetting soul,
forgetting bliss,
forgetting all.”

The day had nearly given way,
our garden lost to shadow’s play,
while high above a jeweled lace of stars
did veil evening’s face,
and longing that to him be wed,
cast beams of light to crown his head.

He stopped and gazed into the sky,
heaven’s clouds began to cry,
tears of rain rolled down his cheek,
I drifted into a silence deep.

Upon a stony seat we sat—we did not speak,
while in my heart my mind took rest on silence’s seat.
The garden’s breeze became my breath
uniting me in love to earth and sky and tree.

And he and me,
that was no more,
we formed one sea without a shore.

“Oh my dear one, try to see,
when you are happy,
I am free,
and by illusion’s powers no longer tied,
to greed and lust, hatred, jealousy, selfishness, and pride.”

The garden walked inside of me,
my body’s breath became its breeze.
Within the silence of my heart my mind did rest,
free from worry, void of quest.

“Things that are Real are given and received in silence.”
He said to me.
“Silence is the abode of Reality.”

We sat as one upon our stony seat
and watched the evening’s curtain close upon the day.
But then, as darkness overtook the light,
again my mind began to play.

“Do not worry,” he said to me,
“from your mind you will be freed,
by love’s power you will be free
to live in Bliss eternally.”

“Await my dear that perfect time
be patience with my game divine,
till I wake you from your waking dream,
to gain at last that Bliss Supreme.”

The Beloved, Meher Baba said,

“When love is the presiding genius,
The path to truth is effortless and joyous.”

Copyright 2002 Michael Kovitz