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