“Before you judge my actions,
Lord, I pray, you will forgive.
Before my heart has broken,
Will you help my soul to live?
Before my eyes are covered,
Will you let me see your face?
Before my feet are tired,
May I reach your dwelling place?
Before I wake from slumber,
You will watch me, Lord, I hold.
Before I throw my mantle,
Will you take me in your fold?
Before my work is over,
You, my Lord, will right the wrong.
Before you play your music,
Will you let me sing my song?”
In the end, all will be well. The veils will be lifted, the truth will be revealed, and the Infinite will have the last word.
Meanwhile, here on earth, matters remain unresolved. We are down in the trenches, struggling to realize our duties and desires, uncertain what tomorrow will bring.
Our days in these bodies are brief and fleeting. But this sojourn no accident. Our commission is from the Ancient of Days.
Only by dying before death can we live as we must here. Only by rising before the Rise can we soar in the depths.
We will know what the Invisible and the visible are to each other when we know the first as water, the second as salt, and our breaths as waves in the shoreless, floorless sea.
Chased by death, lured by beauty, the psyche calls out: Highest Friend! Be with me in this twilight. Guard over the dream in which I wander, and suffuse it with the beams of Your Glance. Let me lift a song up to You before my tongue disappears in Your Eternal Light.
Music of the Spheres: Gamaka Commentaries, Nirtan
In the end, all will be well. The veils will be lifted, the truth will be revealed, and the Infinite will have the last word.
Meanwhile, here on earth, matters remain unresolved. We are down in the trenches, struggling to realize our duties and desires, uncertain what tomorrow will bring.
Our days in these bodies are brief and fleeting. But this sojourn no accident. Our commission is from the Ancient of Days.
Only by dying before death can we live as we must here. Only by rising before the Rise can we soar in the depths.
We will know what the Invisible and the visible are to each other when we know the first as water, the second as salt, and our breaths as waves in the shoreless, floorless sea.
Chased by death, lured by beauty, the psyche calls out: Highest Friend! Be with me in this twilight. Guard over the dream in which I wander, and suffuse it with the beams of Your Glance. Let me lift a song up to You before my tongue disappears in Your Eternal Light.