The Holy Water

by Rabia de Basri

No one lives outside the walls of this sacred place, existence.

The holy water, I need it upon my eyes:  it is you, dear, you – each form.

What mother would lose her infant – and we are that to God, never lost from its gaze are we?  Every cry of the heart is attended by light’s own arms.

You cannot wander anywhere that will not aid you.  Anything you can touch – God brought it into the classroom of your mind. 

Differences exist, but not in the city of love.  Thus my vows and yours, I know they are the same.

I have just peeled the skin from the potato and you are still contemplating its worth.  Sweetheart, indeed there are wonderful nutrients in all, for God made everything.

My soul’s face has revealed its beauty to me; why was it shy so long, didn’t it know how this made me suffer and weep?

A different game Love plays with its close ones.  God tells us truths you would not believe, for most everyone needs to limit Love’s compassion; concepts of right and wrong preserve the golden seed until one of God’s friends comes along, and tends your body like a divine bride.

The holy sent out a surveyor to find the limits of its compassion and being.  God knows a divine frustration whenever It acts like that, for the Infinite has no walls. 

Why not tease God about this?  Why not accept the freedom of what it means for our God to see us as Itself. 

No one lives outside the walls of this sacred place, existence.


Photo by Wendell

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