The Offering (a mystical poem)
O Beloved,
Were it not for the swirling spectacle
Dancing upon creation's stage
I would behold only the dawn of Thy Radiance.
O Beloved,
Were it not for the scintillating sparks
Igniting the flames of passion
I would thrill only to the embrace of Thy Peace.
O Beloved,
Were it not for the succulent morsels
And countless candied delights
I would savor only the manna of Thy Wisdom.
O Beloved!
Were it not for the alluring perfumes
Wafting upon the winds
I would liven only to the sprays of Thy Joy.
O Beloved!
Were it not for the siren song
Of life's million million voices
I would listen only to the melodies of Thy Love.
O Beloved—Beloved!
Every sensuous stirring would I renounce
If but once I might feel Thy Touch
If but once I might taste Thy Sweetness
If but once I might breathe Thy Presence
If but once I might hear Thy Voice
If but once I might see Thy Beauty
And if but once—but once!—I might offer everything I am,
Heart, mind, soul, and strength,
Into Thy eternal, all-satisfying Bliss.