The Divine Master
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I profess no wisdom of spiritual matters. When I wrote this, I think I was talking to myself, trying to work something out, and giving myself a therapy session and a pep talk, telling myself to not to relinquish control to someone, not really someone, but what I imagined someone to be.
The divine master is many things:
He is a monolith to which we pray;
He is the light and he is the way;
He’s in each and every place -
Like the commandments we shan’t debase.
The divine master provides for us:
He gives us life, he gives us our food;
We owe him all of our gratitude;
We are so small, so morally weak,
His forgiveness and grace we must seek.
Our master sometimes takes human form:
He could be Jesus, could be a saint
With whose teachings we should all acquaint,
A guiding light, philosopher or sage
To guide us from youth to old age,
A statesman or a great orator
Who knows how to lead us through each door,
An artist or discerning poet
Who colors life in words to show it,
A woman of ravishing beauty
Whose happiness we make our duty,
Our principles that are carved in stone
Which we must practice or else atone;
A mother, lover, brother or son
Can be the harshest masters, bar none.
We must learn to obey our master:
First, discover his or her desires,
Then appease him to avoid misfires.
If we try our best in every way,
Love and acceptance might come our way.
We may rebel against our master:
If obedience may seem oppressive,
Or his demands should feel excessive.
Of course, we have the option to rebel,
But we may then live and die in Hell.
We may try to escape our master:
We can live out our lives on the run,
Tearing around and pursuing fun.
You might think you’ll live without a care,
But you won’t find peace - no how, nowhere.
We may exhale our divine master:
When I open up and let him in,
Let my master live inside my skin,
I find out that I become very small
Until I’m almost nothing at all;
But, when I breathe out and let him go,
I find out that I begin to grow;
So, I will then completely exhale;
My master is no more - I prevail;
“Obey”, “rebel”, “escape” - senseless rot -
It doesn’t apply to what is not.
Instead, I’ll live with things that are there,
The shining sun, the sea, and the air,
A dog named spot and a dragonfly -
They’re all I need with me when I die.
Copyright © David Crandall | Year Posted 2024
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