The spring sun streams through my window frame
Opening wide to limitless vasts of saphire blue,
Red roses sparkling, diamonds of dew,
My heart hymns praises to Him without a Name
An equal love for Self and all, the same.
I drew the curtains of my room, enlarge the view,
From tattered folds a powdery dust soon flew
Across the scene, obscuring sunlight’s flame.

As cloud did clear I saw each dusty grain
A world held in solar radiant beam,
Universes in Brahman’s mighty magic dream.
My mind fell into heart, no words explain,
I am the light, the sun, the room, the view
The dust, the Self, and Brahman; so are you.

Alan Jacobs

(Journal no. 13)