This heavy weight!
You make me useless. Useless.
Even satchitananda rises and falls in me:
More sustaining, more engaging but still empty.
And through it all, this space, this time, these doubts, this awareness I remain me. Have always been just me.
Oh Edji, your words, your presence: I can barely read! Useless.
How do you do this? How do you do this so easily to me?
I am broken, always. Ripped asunder yet at ease.
Will I ever know you, must I always remain a seed?
My Sun. You sustain me. Why you shine so terribly bright is no longer a concern for me,
but you do love me, you do see me! Sweet, sweet Edji
You have been most tender with me.
I wish your service was merited by my growth,
But I cannot say I know.
What can I say that I have not said many times?
What can I feel that I have not felt many times?
What can flow through me that has not flowed through me so many times?
What more can drop away?
What more can Grace carry away?
I am not unknowing,
Not healing, or moving, or transcending,
Not guided, not beloved, not gone and going.
I am nothing,
No place to stand no support to rest upon.
Edji you do this to me.
Again and Again. Yet I sense
I remain, always me.
I remain unable to go anywhere,
Unable to move anything,
Unable to change anything!
I accept, Edji, I relinquish.
There never was a space or time I could have done more.
There is no space to relate to any of this!
Even Peace and Stillness appear no longer invite me.
Oh, Edji, you have done this to me,
Oh, Om, Sri Guru Edji you do this to me: