The Harvest
At the end of the rainbow
Where ‘I’ and “my self” end
Begins a heavenly harvest
Silken robed Mothers of
Darkness
Working the stems of
non-existence
Silently picking not corn or
cotton
But Divine pearls and diamonds
Come close my love to behold
Fantastic vernal fields of my
dolor
And rained upon tears are mine
Tears people thought long lost
Though I am dead & my name
forgotten
On
this plantation Divine Harvest forever
When I farm my life to harvest
serenity & repose, from moment to moment, repelling &
deflecting the anxieties & stress to live in peace & comfort
indeed a withered harvest I found. Today ‘I’ look for serenity of my
Divine Beloved amongst the pages of the books whilst “my Self”
wallowing in Self-imposed ignorance! Looked through the eyes of the
Orbital Satellites and squint though the Quantum Tunneling Microscopes
but found nothing of any repose to becalm the unrest within my vexed
heart.
At last I wore the eyes of
this dying AIDS Orphan and looked at “my Self” verily found the repose,
that everlasting serenity this child bequeathed to all Divine Lovers.
To bring this serenity back to
humanity is not a matter of books & lectures but a matter of life
& death and this girl in her death begat spiritual life for the
Divine Lovers.
© 2004-2002,
Dara O. Shayda