He Is The Spire
Artist: Simon Pritchard
His fist was closed. Curled in tight. No room to breathe or fly a kite.
He held illusions. Recoiled grip. Robbed of life. A pirate ship.
Shutting out all the love. Desensitised like hand in glove. The squeezed
fist hurt. White nuckled clench. Tightening like a monkey wrench.
Suffocated no more breath. The heart falls to untimely death
Then Guru comes with open hand. To help his student understand. His
Light shines through and all around. His Being is His student’s Ground.
He penetrates the devotee, who soon begins to hear and see. He is the
Heart. He is the Spire. He burns the ego in His Fire. He is the One to
Realize. He has no shape. He has no size. He can’t be measured or
defined. He gives heart-sight to the blind.
So brother. Sister. I tell you True. He is The One who’s living you.
Become a dancing prayer of Love. Your heart in His like hand in glove.
Recognize the Very One. And float on sunbeams to The Sun. Sun of The
Heart. Expected One. He Is Here. He has come. His Light is blazing night
and day. Our Lord, The Fire, must have its Way.