The golden fullness of this Moon
does not limit or condition
the dark mystery of Night
any more than the radiance
of a photon gives boundaries
to the womb-void that bears it.
Devotion to the Master
does not limit or divide
the unity of the Divine
any more than an open door
encloses the space of the mansion
one enters through it.
Nor does the personal form
of the Lord limit or bind
the bliss of the Formless
any more than a drop of sweetness
contracts the ocean into which it falls.
Let this drop become the sea.
Let the sea become this drop.
Don't be afraid to bow and enter
the little door of this enormous tent!
Let the nectar of your Master's presence
be the flavor of the Infinite
in the cup of your broken heart.
Photo: My teacher gazing at the full moon