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You are worth every ache and pain

    and You are still not in sight.

But my feet won't move anymore

    and my love is still much too close to see.

Why must You make me wait?

Is coming when I least expect it so important?

Perhaps patience would be a comfort to me,

Perhaps patience would be a comfort to me, a blessed virtue;

But I have heard You are fairer than the Virtues; and beyond them all

So what do I want with them.

Virtue may make the bad good and the good better, but I want none of it.

I love only You and want nothing to do with anything but You.

What kind of love is it that my Beloved has for me

    that must wait on whims and pleasures —

    when I am dying of separation?

You have said Your Love for me is beyond imagination;

Why is it not strong enough to make You come flying to me

    when I do not even have the strength to roll my eyes in Your direction.

Are You afraid that I shall burn up or explode

    if I saw Your loveliness?

It is the seven veils of nothing that keep You from coming?

If so, have no fear; it is the pleasure of my love for You that calls.

Dying would be no sacrifice at all.

Besides You chide me, is not Your sweet nectar of Love

    delicious enough to make me forget all else?

What care have I if I disintegrate into dust;

    or explode over the stars.

I shall never know it.

Come, dear Love, come;

Find no more excuses to absent Yourself.

Pretend no more that I am here calling.

 

—IRWIN LUCK

 

Baba's cabled reply:

YOUR LOVE SONG MADE ME VERY HAPPY

THE LOVE POURED FROM YOUR DROP HEART

HAS TOUCHED THE OCEAN

—MEHER BABA

40

 

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