Moments and Breaths Falling Away

Moments falling … falling…
Down and down they fall, empty of devotion.
Breaths rise in your chest, then fall away.
Down and down they fall, empty of adoration.
Grains of gold, not sand, falling down and down,
through your hourglass of astonishing opportunity.

The merciful one sends an endless stream of mystics
to waken the mind of man from the dream of daily life.
You roll over in bed and pull up your covers
to shut out the Light shining in the voice of the saint,
who begs you to waken and save your soul
from the suffering of birth and death.

Picture now, my friend, a future you can’t yet see.
You stand in the court of consequence.
The question has been asked,
“How did you spend the gold you were given,
your treasure of moments and breaths?”
You will be reminded that you failed to honour a deal
you signed with a saint on earth, to give ten percent
of your time to the One who gave you everything.

How can even a saint plead your case,
when you ignored the words of warning
that fell like rubies from his lips,
and you denied your soul her one chance for freedom?

Picture it now, my friend,
your case is on the docket. What will your answer be?
“There was so little time on earth and so many demands on me”?
It sounded so noble then, but it’s a weak defense
here, in the court of consequence.

You won’t mention moments lost to shady pursuits
and pleasures, or gambling breaths on blind ambition,
chasing the dream within a dream,
in the game of fortune and fame.

In a whisper, you’ll finally say, “I squandered my wealth away,
one moment, one breath at a time.”
Will you then fall on your knees and look up at last,
with tear-stained face and trembling folded hands?
Will you beg forgiveness and grace from the One,
who begged you for the kindness of a little spare change
from your vast wealth of time on earth?
It will all come back to you then –
that you had nothing to give,
and wandered off, looking for some trifle
to break the boredom of your divine discontent.
Seconds into hours, days into weeks, months into years,
you remained a tyrant mind teeming with desires,
a bloated body, ravenous with hungers,
a tortured soul, sobbing in the dark.

What must he send to waken you?
A rain of suffering so cold, it freezes drops of pain into stones
that hammer down on your head, until you change?

Tears falling – falling too late, for a lifetime gone,
a lifetime lost to your careless ways.
Down and down, your lifetime fell – one moment,
one breath at a time, empty of devotion.

Listen, dear friend!
Can you not feel the pain from where this poem has come?
Follow me down and down to the prison cell of your soul.
Can you not hear her tears cried for freedom lost,
the wasted wonder of Shabd waiting so close, inside?

I implore you, dear friend! Wake up now!
Before it is too late. Let your lifetime stand and serve
for something more than a cautionary tale.
Fill this moment with the circle of Holy Names,
the face of your Master or the stream of sacred Sound.
Fill it now, my friend! Because this moment you are in
is the only one you ever have to live – or give away.

Fill this breath with perfect presence.
Be the bliss of Shabd thrilling through you,
love at the speed of light.
Then breathe your first sigh of relief.
For this is the peace and grace that is given
for every moment and breath that you take,
and give back to the One –
burning bright and filled to the brim.