By Graham Hill
June 2, 2018
Working as a Counselor, with sincerity,
I read canonised wisdom from your book,
The feeling of heartfelt service, our responsibility,
My loving gaze turns inward, to look
Cooking, melting senses, in a cauldron broth,
Dissolving unneeded human knowledge, of my lot
Whatever is truth swashes in divine froth,
Newness of creation, no longer human rot!
Contemplating my counselling job, it’s gotta stop!
Talking therapy, humancare program conveyor belt, deranged.
Another counselling position taken..Should have dropped!
Unconsciously another karmic dream, spiritually arranged.
Persistent obsession with her divine elegant service,
A soaring inspiration to guide my gifts
Working with ‘the homeless’, a new-age dervish,
Excitement!, flying to a colleague in fits!
Ulrike talks, in welcome soft solemn tones,
Blockages within my heart, will need to shift,
Entering an arena of hallowed joy, alone,
With sacred healing touch, my soul uplifts!
A deafening silence obliterates my known world!
Alone immersed in a woven divine shawl,
Earthly eyes closed, your saintly visage unfurled,
‘How may I serve you?’,..My calling?
A pitless echo returns through your voice,
So touched, I’m embroidered with your reply!
‘The lost’ you implore, dispense your gifts!
Scintillating delight!, I explode from divine rifts!
Now gliding aloft ten thousand powerful meditations!
I run wild my battery soul enhanced,
An imbibed pearlescent service promise, zero deliberations,
Third eye peeled apart, my hearts dancing!
An angel has graced me I’m clear!
My multicoloured mala shatters softly, what this?
Usually a cataclysmic feeling of abandonment,
Now a minor twitch, in boundless bliss.
24/7 now she is here to talk,
Becoming immune to shock of material deaths,
After all she is gone and yet she walks
Diamond heart, I’m centred, goodbye my frets!
With my daughter, in our awe-filled haven,
Our ‘Forest of Arden’… my mobile rings,
A familiar voice, job offer…no cravings!
Work with ‘the lost’.. It just sings!
I pause, in quiet, unruffled, loving discernment
I look into myriad branches…a test!
What will I do? No more adjournment!
Gentle whispers, swaying trees..Its a Yes!!
I serve ‘the lost’, thank you, Dear Mother Teresa, Loving You.
© Graham Hill 6.2.18