It Will Stretch Out Its Leg

The Soul's Journey

All the classes you have sat in,
All the money you have paid
For "truth,"
Something must be wrong, though,
If your eye still wanders through the streets
Acting like a beggar.

Why not try this:
Let all the fake teachers starve.

Picture one of the great masters
In your mind,

Put your lips against his cheek
Each morning.

Say, keep saying,

"Dear Beloved, pinch me.
I want proof You're near -
A love-bruise on my rump will do."

The Friend is an unfathomable well
That knows everything;
Draw from that safe luminous sky.

Stay near this book,
It will stretch out its leg and
Trip you;

You'll fall
Into
God.