Lovers of God, sometimes a door opens,
and a human being becomes a way
for grace to come through.
I see various herbs in the kitchen garden,
each with its own bed, garlic, capers, saffron,
and basil, each watered differently to help it mature.
We keep the delicate ones separate from the turnips,
but there’s room for all in this unseen world, so vast
that the Arabian desert gets lost in it like a single hair
in the ocean. Imagine that you are Sheba
trying to decide whether to go to Solomon!
You’re haggling about how much to pay
for shoeing a donkey, when you could be seated
with one who is always in union with God,
who carries a beautiful garden inside himself.
You could be moving in a circuit without wing,
nourished without eating, sovereign without a throne.
No longer subject to fortune, you could be luck itself,
if you would rise from sleep, leave
the market arguing, and learn that
your own essence is your wealth.